


Les Fleurs du Mal

by lossifovna



Series: Law & Order: Auror Department [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Case Fic, F/M, Harry Potter Next Generation, Multi, Murder Mystery, Serial Killers, Some Humor, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:14:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 100,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26477800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lossifovna/pseuds/lossifovna
Summary: 1985. When a series of bodies is found, the Auror Department is confronted for the first time with a new type of murderer. While investigating the cases, Harry Potter, an Auror belonging to the Violent Crimes Division, suddenly finds himself transported to the future, in 2016, where the killer is still at large. He is convinced that catching him is the only way for him to get back home to his family.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Series: Law & Order: Auror Department [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2096658
Comments: 24
Kudos: 19





	1. -1-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a mix between Harry Potter and an amazing crime drama, Tunnel. So it's a murder investigation but with a dash of Magic !  
> The stroy starts in 1985 but everything that happened in the Harry Potter canon is the same, just twenty years earlier.  
> Tell me what you think !  
> Enjoy ! ( ᐛ )و  
> (Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the work of JK Rowling and does not belong to me, I'm just borrowing the universe and the characters. Tunnel is property of OCN.)

_**November 1985** _

Night was already beginning to fall, precipitated by the gloomy weather visible through the windows of their workspace. The few Aurors still lingering hurried to pick up their files, sealing them in their desk drawers before getting ready to go out, wishing good night to their on-call colleagues that evening.

Harry turned off the small lamp on his desk before putting on his cloak and joined Ron who was waiting for him at the big front door of the Department. After Voldemort's defeat and the end of the Second Dark War in 1978, the two young men immediately began their Auror training, graduating from the Academy two years later. With five years of experience, they were now no longer rookies and were working as partners in the Violent Crimes Division of the Auror Department.

Their team consisted of six men and women. The youngest member was still in training, his name was Jack Sloper. He was nineteen years old and Harry had taken him under his wing and was trying to teach him everything he knew. The young trainee had been assigned to them a few weeks earlier, introducing himself shyly to them, with short black hair with a brush haircut and his jacket three times too large making him look even younger than he was. He had quickly become part of the team and was extremely committed to his work; Harry liked him very much.

Their other teammates, two women and two men, were all competent, older and more experienced wizards, usually taking on the most difficult cases, sometimes to the dismay of the two young men, who often found themselves investigating less interesting crimes. They had just concluded their last case, the days were quite peaceful, and they could afford to leave the office at a relatively correct time.

Harry and Ron walked through the almost deserted hallways of the Ministry to reach the elevators while discussing their plans for the weekend.

“Ginny insists that we go and see some houses on Saturday”, Harry began, stepping into the cabin. “We haven't yet found one we both like.”

“Have you tried the Devon side ?” his friend asked him.

“I know we said we wanted to escape from the city, but I admit I don't want to go and bury myself deep in the country either. I would rather find a place close to the coast.”

The elevator doors opened and they stepped into the atrium.

“You could always try to find one close to us. Imagine that, we could create a whole village of Weasleys, with Fred and Angelina who don't live very far, Percy who plans to get closer and my parents a few kilometers away !”

“It's tempting, but I'll pass,” Harry replied, laughing.

They separated in front of the large chimneys, wishing each other good evening, each one returning to his respective residence. Harry and Ginny had been living for several years in a small old house in a residential area of London. They had settled there temporarily at first, but because of their time-consuming professions, he as an Auror and she as a professional Quidditch player, they had not had time to find anything else. Until now at least, because for the past few weeks they had been scouring the magical real estate agencies in search of the perfect property, the place where they could finally settle permanently and consider starting their family.

When he came out of the fireplace and into the dimly lit living room, a burning smell assailed Harry's senses. He put down his bag and removed his cloak, leaving it on the couch as he walked past to the kitchen, where his companion seemed to be struggling with the evening meal. Dark smoke billowed from the oven and the dish she was holding in her hands. She placed it on the open window sill and tried to push the smoke away with hand gestures and the cloth she was waving in vain. He smiled at the sight for a moment, then took his wand out of his pocket and, with a spell, made all traces of the disaster disappear.

Ginny turned around sharply, an air of surprise painted on her face, and her messy red hair twirled with his sudden movement.

“Harry! Are you here already ? I wanted to surprise you by preparing dinner, but I think I failed it a bit.”

He took her in his arms and kissed her forehead, he could smell the smell of burning impregnated in her red hair.

“The element of surprise is there for sure! You look like you just had a fight with a troll. What was it ?” he asked, looking at the blackened contents of the dish on the window sill.

“Lasagna, I tried to follow Mom's recipe. For once I wanted to cook !”

“That's okay, it's the intention that counts,” he reassured her when he saw her look of displeasure. “Would you like to go to a restaurant ?”

She answered him with a smile, her eyes filled with affection. When she looked at him like that, Harry always felt like the luckiest man on earth, and even after all those years together, he fell even more in love with Ginny every day, if that was possible. Nothing could ever match the feeling of happiness, security and warmth he felt when he was by her side.

A few days later, on a cold November morning, Harry thought back to that moment, thinking that he would have preferred to be warm in their little house with Ginny rather than running along the muddy path on the banks of the Thames. He was in pursuit of a man suspected of poisoning his neighbor with an adulterated potion in revenge for a story of a stolen Mooncalf a decade earlier. The Auror did not yet have all the details of the case.

“Stop ! In the name of the Ministry, stop !”

The man turned around, cast a spell on Harry and shouted “would you stop in this situation ?”

“Son of a-” Harry didn't finish his sentence, and instead cast a spell of restraint on his suspect, narrowly missing him and scratching his sky-blue anorak instead.

The man turned suddenly and disappeared into the tall grass of the fallow riverbank.

“Hey ! Come back here ! Scum !”

Harry was running out of breath ; they had been running for a while now and his body was making him feel his lack of training. He could hear the other two Aurors on his team running behind him, Jack's voice coming to him between breathless laments.

“Kiddo ! Try to intercept him by aparating in front of him !” Harry told him.

The characteristic _pop_! of his disappearance echoed across the field. The man in front of him accelerated, shouting, “don't come near me ! Ah ! Stay away from me !”

“For Merlin's sake, stop !”

Harry tried to cast another spell, but pointing his wand while running made him miss his target by at least a good two meters. He let out a cry of frustration and started running again.

“Let it go ! Aaah !”

The man in the blue coat had turned his head to estimate the distance to Harry and had gotten stuck in a hole in his path. His body laid all the way down in a muddy puddle, and he tried to turn around before Harry could catch him.

As the Auror approached to handcuff him, the suspect began to struggle, moving his legs and pointing straight in front of him with a scream of fear.

“What are you doing ? Tsk. Your act won't work, you're coming with me !”

“There ! There !”

Harry raised his eyes and looked at what the man was pointing at.

In the middle of the tall, yellowed grass was the lifeless body of a woman, her bluish skin covered with dark marks, and her hands were tied up like her ankles. Her shoes and her bag and its contents were scattered around her, but her clothes, a white skirt and coat, were still on. Her face was juvenile, half masked by the strands of dark hair escaping from her undone braid.

Entirely focused on the body, the young man did not hear his colleagues arrive and jumped when a hand was placed on his shoulder.

“Chief ?”

Harry turned to young Jack, who looked at the scene with wide-set eyes, his pale complexion almost as white as the milky sky above their heads ; it was probably the first time he had ever seen a dead body. The Auror, himself upset by what he saw, took pity on him and sent him to escort the man he had just apprehended back to the Ministry.

Once the boy left, he turned his attention back to the young woman, his colleague at his side.

“We need to contact the Muggles, that's more their jurisdiction, isn't it ?” he suggested.

Harry approached the body and slowly walked around it to inspect it, when he saw something slightly hidden under the victim's small leather bag. He bent down and picked it up.

“Contact the office, I think this case is for us.”

Between his fingers, he turned the light-colored wooden wand that seemed to belong to the young woman.

Mindy Pinfield was twenty-one years old, from Bristol and had disappeared four days earlier, having last been seen leaving her best friend's home in London. She was indeed a citizen of the Wizarding World, a former student at Hogwarts, perhaps Harry had even met her in a corridor during their studies.

In the naked, impersonal autopsy room of the Magical Forensic Wing of St Mungo, the forensic pathologist, a small, dark-skinned man in his forties, had concluded that the victim had been murdered in a muggle-like manner.

“She was strangled with a nylon stocking that was still around her neck when the body was found.”

He pointed to various places on the body, continuing his report to the Aurors present. “Traces of blows were found, here, there and there. She probably struggled with her attacker but I did not find any other abuse.”

The information was a slight relief to Harry, who would not have been surprised to learn otherwise.

“I also found no fingerprints on the body, nor any individual magical signature,” the coroner continued.

“So is it a case for the Muggle police, in the end ?” Ron asked.

Ron had been assigned to the investigation with Harry, Jack and a fourth Auror, Lance Williamson, the oldest and most experienced in the division.

“Not exactly. Here, help me turn her.” The medic beckoned to his young assistant to help him, and once the victim's back was visible, he pointed to a darker spot shaped like a multi-pointed star. “This is a spell impact, more precisely a paralysis spell.”

He released the body and continued his explanations. “Usually, spell impacts disappear in a few minutes, a few hours at the most. However, with death and the cessation of all blood circulation, the healing process does not take place and the mark persists.”

“So the killer is indeed a wizard. But why kill her this way ? Why not use an unforgivable or another spell ?” Harry asked.

“Maybe to cover their tracks, to make us believe it was a Muggle crime and hope that their authorities will take care of it,” Jack tried.

The way it was done was unusual, the Aurors had to admit. Still, Harry felt a certain excitement about finally investigating a case that seemed more complex than the ones he was used to solving, and he could see that his teammates shared his feelings. What satisfaction they would feel when they’ll arrest the criminal !

Two weeks later, however, his mood had changed dramatically. The investigation was at a standstill, the aurors had no clues that could have moved the case forward. The observation of the crime scene had not brought them anything new, the culprit had apparently mastered the art of erasing his tracks, and the interrogations of the victim's relatives and acquaintances had proved to be totally useless. As a rule, however, such a violent act was most often perpetrated by someone who knew the person killed, at least that is what the Aurors were taught at the Academy.

“It's so frustrating !” Harry sank into his chair and raised his arms to the sky before letting his hands fall back on his face. In front of him, Ron's posture, slumped on his desk, echoed the same emotion.

“Not to mention the Daily Prophet, which has just published an article with a photo of the crime scene. I don't even know how they got it,” continued the brown haired Auror.

“What a bunch of vultures. The investigation is still ongoing, they’re really not helping by publishing such things.” 

“They have no regard for Miss Penfield's family. For Merlin's sake, imagine if it was your own daughter, or your sister.”

“Have you told Ginny about this ?” Ron asked after a moment of silence, rolling his pen on his desk with his fingertips.

“About the case ? Yes, vaguely. I never give her many details when I tell her about ongoing investigations though.”

“Hermione often asks me a lot of questions, it's pretty hard to stay vague.”

“It's because she works next door, she's a bit of a colleague. It affects her more than Gin.”

“I can't wait for us to find something, anyway, and quickly. Anything, as long as it makes things move forward.”

“Anything" wouldn't have been the words Harry would have chosen, especially when a second body was found by an early morning passer-by a few weeks later on a lonely path under a bridge. Like the first victim, it was a young witch in her twenties, Emily Browning, who was obviously killed in the same way. The first thing the young Auror saw when he arrived on the scene was her half-long, shiny red hair surrounding her head like a crown of fire. He had to force his gaze away from the body after a few minutes before joining his senior. All around the security cordon installed by the Aurors, a crowd of onlookers and journalists were trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on.

While the officers and the forensic team tried to find clues at the crime scene, picking up each object carefully, Harry and Williamson observed them.

“It's only been four weeks since the last incident,” said the youngest, tightening his cloak around his shoulders after a particularly icy gust of wind.

Williamson ran his hand through his graying hair with a weary gesture. “I know. Robards will be on the verge of a nervous breakdown.”

“What kind of criminal acts like this ? We've already investigated all the Department’s known offenders.”

“Well, we're going to have to do it again.”

They were interrupted by Jack, who slowly approached them, with a slightly greenish complexion. Harry had asked him to interview the witnesses.

“So what did they say ?”

The trainee put one hand on his chest before taking in a deep breath and answering him.

“She wasn't there last evening.”

“It happened in the night then,” Williamson said, deep in thought.

“Do you think it could be the same criminal ?” Harry asked.

“Don't talk nonsense. Let's go back to the office, we have work to do.”

Cuddled up in their big bed with unraveled sheets wrapped around their legs, Harry and Ginny were finally going to be able to spend their first night in their new home. Despite the closed windows, the sounds of the nearby sea could be heard in the silent room.

It was the house they had always dreamed of, although it was far from the city, but it didn't matter as long as they could move around by aparating or with the floo network. There was a small wizarding village nearby, and the couple knew it was the ideal place to raise their future children.

Harry thoughtfully ran his hand through Ginny's long red hair, her head resting on his chest, her face serene and her eyes closed. She seemed about to fall asleep when the young man whispered.

“Gin.”

“Mh.”

“You promise to be careful when you go to London alone, right ?”

The young woman opened her eyes, turning her head slightly towards the ceiling. “Why are you asking me this all of a sudden ?”

“It's just- With the recent murders, and the fact that the suspect, or suspects, are still at large, I can't stop worrying about you.”

Ginny changed her position to face him. “Of course I'm careful, and besides I'm not helpless, I know how to fight,” she added with a smile.

“I know.” He kissed her before he held her close to him, the image of the body he'd found the day before still vivid in his mind. “I know,” he repeated in a low voice.

For several days, they spent hours interviewing dozens of men in the office, ranging from the victims' families to acquaintances, without any conclusive results. The days seemed interminable and their work did not progress, making them moody and irritable.

On the fifth day, a witch burst into the office in panic, calling out to every Auror she passed on her way.

“Please ! Please ! Please help me ! We have to find her !”

Williamson was the first to react, rising abruptly from his chair. “Mrs. Culbert? What's going on ?”

The woman rushed towards him, clearly agitated and anxious. Harry recognized the owner of the little teahouse on the corner of the street facing Madam Malkin's store on Diagon Alley.

“It's my daughter, Lena. She didn't come home last night ! Please, we must find her !”

The four Aurors looked at each other. Williamson guided the woman to a desk a little further away and his teammates joined him. Harry conjured a glass of water and handed it to her. She must have been in her forties, her clothes seemed to have been put on in a hurry and her blond hair gathered in a vague bun escaped from it and fell back onto her shoulders.

“How old is your daughter again ?” asked the eldest Auror.

“Twenty-two years old. She lives with me at the moment, she works in the teahouse and in the evenings she helps me deliver the dishes to my customers.”

“Is it unusual that she doesn't come home ? Maybe she's out with friends,” Jack said.

“She would have told me.” The witch's trembling hands tightened around the glass she was holding. “She's always very punctual, always back by nine o'clock sharp. With the incidents that the Daily Prophet talks about... I'm so worried ! Please, you must find her !”

“Don't worry, we'll see what we can do,” Ron tried to reassure her.

Lena Culbert's body was the third to be discovered early the next morning in a field on the outskirts of town. Her mother's tears filled the Auror Department as they broke the news, turning Harry's heart inside out. The feeling of helplessness he felt only grew stronger every day, making him angry at the criminal and at himself and his incompetence.

“How could you let this happen to her ?! Why did she have to die ?! Why did she die ? Lena !”

The questions that the young woman's mother cried out while shaking Williamson echoed those that young Auror was asking himself. Why couldn't they find the suspects ? How was it possible that several people could commit acts of such violence so close in time ? Such actions were usually motivated by deep feelings of hatred or resentment towards the victims, often perpetrated by people close to them. _Why then were the Aurors unable to identify a suspect_?

“We find the same mechanism as for the two previous victims, strangled with a nylon stocking, feet and hands tied.” The medic and his assistant were working around the body in the cold room, while sharing their observations with the Aurors.

“So could it be the same murderer in all three cases ?” Harry asked.

“That's absurd, you can't base your theories solely on the method used to kill,” Williamson replied gruffly.

“Usually, you solve cases by investigating the surroundings, by finding clues and evidence, or by interviewing relatives. But if you take the Browning and Pinfield cases, we didn't find anything at all, and it's not for lack of looking,” the young Auror said, before looking back at the woman's body. “It is the same for her. Maybe we've been wrong since the beginning.”

“Enough of this. You're talking nonsense. We're already having enough trouble without imagining absurd scenarios. Why don’t you go get the list of the clients she delivered the day she disappeared instead.” His senior's dry tone was irrevocable and Harry refrained from making any further remarks, even though he didn't think any less so.

Interrogations in the Auror Department continued and the investigation was still stalled. The investigators had a brief moment of hope that they had found a solid lead thanks to Miss Culbert's client list before finding themselves in a dead end. Harry's entire team had now been assigned to the case, in order to speed up the investigation.

After a grueling day interviewing the last clients on the list, Harry went to the scene of the latest crime, accompanied by Jack. Night had already fallen and the moon was weakly shining in the January sky, the cold air turning their every breath into small clouds of condensation. They crouched side by side and silently observed the surroundings, the only source of light coming from their wands. Harry glanced down at his watch.

“Nine o'clock. It’s about the estimated time of the murders.” He looked up to the sky and then let his gaze wander over the landscape. “It's a very dark place for someone who doesn't know the place to venture into by chance. That several people would chose to kill someone there... It doesn't make sense.”

“Do you think it's someone from around here, then ?” Jack intervened, blowing into his hands before rubbing them to warm them.

“Someone who knows this place anyway, yes.”

“So one and the same suspect for all three murders ?”

“I don't think we can ignore this theory, even if it's the first time I've seen this type of crime.” Harry nodded.

Sure, there had been a series of murders during the War against Voldemort, but all of them were committed against a certain type of population, by different wizards and witches although they adhered to the same values ; these were hate crimes and could not be compared to the current situation.

“Do you think there will be others ? Murders, I mean,” the trainee asked shyly, his worried look probing Harry's serious expression.

“I hope not, but my instincts tell me it's a possibility.”

  
  


A few weeks later, as he was about to leave the office, Harry was called late to join his team in a wizard suburb of the capital. It was away from a residential area, on the edge of a railroad track, that Elizabeth Bickford's body was found shortly after ten o'clock.

When Harry apparated to the scene, the place was in full swing, illuminated by the Aurors' wands collecting as many clues as they could under the night mist, trying to reconstruct the course of events with the help of a _Appare Vestigium_. The phantasmagorical golden silhouettes revealed by the enchantment seemed to vanish almost as soon as they appeared, making it impossible to analyze the crime. He easily found Ron, who was supervising the operations, with a grave face.

“Was she identified ?”

“Yes, Elizabeth Bickford, twenty-five years old, she lives here, in one of these houses,” replied the red-haired auror, pointing vaguely towards the buildings in the distance.

“Has anyone notified her family ?”

“We tried to contact them through the floo network, but there was no response,” Jack informed him, just joining them.

“She has been killed and you want to tell them that by firecall ? What's wrong with you, kiddo ?”

After checking the young woman's address, Harry headed for the residential area. He walked for about ten minutes before he saw a strange silhouette standing out in the light of a street lamp, obviously waiting for something. As he approached, the Auror realized it was a man holding a toddler in his arms. The child suddenly began to cry and Harry stopped, praying, begging whoever would hear him - Merlin, Morgana or someone else - that it would not be the victim's family.

“Excuse me!” the man called out, walking towards him. “You wouldn't have passed a young woman on your way here, would you ?”

Up close, the features of his face, dimly illuminated by the street lamp, seemed familiar to Harry. Corner. It was his name. Michael Corner, a student at Hogwarts in the same year as him at Hogwarts. The young father's eyes widened as he recognized the man in front of him.

“Potter ? Is that you ? What are you doing here ?”

“Michael ? Do you- Do you know Elizabeth Bickford ?”

“She's my wife. Why ? Have you seen her ? She's incredibly late. I was worried. I went out to wait for her.”

“Michael, I'm so sorry.”

Announcing the death of a loved one to a family had always been what Harry hated most about his job. On that day, he learned that it was even more so difficult when you knew the family.

Michael's scream as he rushed to the lifeless body of his wife tore up the silent night, and Harry tightened his arms around the toddler he had grabbed from the young father's arms when he arrived at the scene. He tried to soothe the child's tears by skipping gently and whispering reassuring words to him, while Michael dropped to his knees near the young woman's body.

Harry stared blankly at the wall of the small, cold room, an air of déjà vu that he would have gladly done without in front of the scene before him. Elizabeth Bickford's body laid there under a thin white sheet after being inspected from every angle.

“As you can guess, the cause of death is similar to the previous victims. Strangled with…”

“... A nylon stocking,” Harry ended in a dull voice.

At his side, Williamson let out a long sigh, his eyes fixed towards the ceiling. “Is it really the same person’s doing ?” he asked.

“I told you something was wrong.”

“But it doesn't make sense ! Why kill women like that for no reason ? I don't believe it.”

“How can you still say that after all this ?” Harry got angry.

“Hey, watch your tone, brat !” reprimanded the senior, pretending to raise his arm to hit him.

“Say, instead of fighting, look at her wrists,” the coroner said. “She struggled so hard, hurting herself to the point of drawing blood to survive. One person was so persistent to kill, the other to live.” He passed a tired hand over his face before speaking again, his gaze directed straight at the Aurors. “I've seen my fair share of bodies, but one person can’t do this to another. Please make sure you catch him as quickly as possible this time.”


	2. -2-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter 2 ! Don't be afraid to tell me what you think !  
> I'd also like to apologize for any mistakes as English is not my first language ! I don't have a beta for the English version of my fics, so I'm trying to be careful when I translate them... (-｡-;  
> Anyway ! Good reading !

Among the clues collected at the last crime scene, the Aurors had found a scarf wrapped in gift wrap. Visibly new and of good quality, the victim must have bought it the same day in order to give it to her spouse. The invoice had also been found in the young woman's bag, making it possible to identify the shop from which the piece of fabric had come. Harry and Ron went there together to interview the shopkeeper and find out if he had seen anything unusual.

“It is indeed one of our items,” the shopkeeper in front of them said, inspecting the garment.

“Have you seen this woman ?” Harry asked, showing him a picture of Elisabeth Bickford.

“Oh yes, she was the one who came last night to buy that same scarf.”

“What time did she leave your shop ?”

“It must have been about seven, seven-thirty. I remember she asked me to call the Knight Bus, she had left her wand at home.”

They managed to find the driver of the Knight Bus on duty that evening, who also remembered seeing her. They questioned him while he was driving, hoping that they had finally found a viable lead.

“The young bride ? I remember her well. She got off just past the intersection forking towards the train station,” he replied, suddenly taking a ninety degree turn.

“Didn't you notice anything unusual ?” Ron asked, once certain he managed to get his stomach under control. “Someone who would have gone down at the same time as her ?”

“No, not that I remember.”

They met dead end after dead end and Harry felt exhausted. Exhausted and completely helpless. Michael Corner had desperately tried to pass on a list of potential suspects to the Aurors but none matched the killer's profile, and all had alibis. On the day of the young woman's funeral, under pouring rain and a leaden sky, Harry watched the ceremony at the cemetery from a distance. He wandered alone in the rain for a long time afterwards, rehashing his thoughts, mentally dissecting the records, trying to find meaning in them.

What irritated him even more was meeting journalists posted in the Ministry's atrium, ready to do anything to get any juicy information, true or false, it didn't matter to them as long as they could write a sensational article on “ _the Thames bank murders_ ”, as they liked to call them. The Aurors were relentlessly chasing them away, but, like cockroaches, they always came back, much to their dismay.

“You know I caught Creevey lurking near the archives room the other day ?” Ron ranted as they passed one of the newsstands on Diagon Alley.

“Dennis Creevey ? That's just like him, to stick his nose in what doesn't concern him. I liked Colin but I always had more trouble with his brother,” Harry commented.

“He's always looking for information for his sensational articles. Merlin, I sometimes even wonder how he finds his sources. Maybe he’s also an illegal animagus, like Skeeter was.”

“Anyway, the next time I see him it's my fist in his face,” the brown-haired Auror said. “Did you see what he wrote about the last case ? All those wild theories about the so-called profile of the murderer, that it was the victims' fault. Tsk. And he calls himself a journalist.”

Six months had gone by since the last incident and the case seemed about to be put on hold. Michael regularly visited the Department, accompanied by his young son, in the hope of obtaining new information and to monitor the progress of the investigation. The response from the Aurors was always the same.

“I am sorry, Mr. Corner, we have no new information regarding your wife's murder. If we did, we would have notified you,” Williamson said softly, sitting across from him at his desk.

“But haven't there been similar murders at the same time ?” Michael asked, desperately trying to hold on to any hope, however small.

“I know what you're thinking, but that's not the case. These are just similar cases, unrelated to each other. All they have in common is that the events took place in the same area.” The Auror paused before resuming. “Please, you have to stop coming here. You can't go on like this.”

“I- I know, I don't want to bother you. I won't come here anymore. It's just that it's the only thing I can do, you know. I haven't got anything else.”

“Think about your son, Michael,” Harry intervened. He was standing next to him, the child in question perched on his lap. “He's still so small, he must be able to count on you, you're all he has left. Isn't that right, Gaby ?”

He turned his eyes to the boy, who smiled a delighted smile at him, too young to understand the situation.

After having accompanied Michael to the exit of the Department, the young Auror remained to observe him from the second floor railing as he crossed the Atrium, his child in his arms.

“I swear to you that I will catch this son of a bitch,” he said in a low voice, his eyes burning with determination.

The sudden cessation of the killings had given Harry a period of respite, during which he enjoyed his free time with Ginny and their friends, rediscovering life outside the Auror Department.

He enjoyed getting together with the whole gang for an evening at the pub, Hermione and Ron, Neville and Hannah, Dean and Seamus, Luna, Ginny, all together and having a good time, enjoying the general good humour combined with good beer and good music. The young man didn't realise how much he missed all this, how much his social life had shrunk over the past months, and although he worked every day with his best friend, seeing him as relaxed as he was made him happy. These moments had the effect of a comforting balm on Harry's heart and psyche.

On a summer afternoon off, he took Ginny for a ride on Sirius' flying motorbike, which he had recovered from Hagrid and repaired and preserved. The following weekend the whole Weasley family gathered for a big party celebrating the birth of George and Angelina's second child, a little girl named Roxane. It was an opportunity for him to spend time with Teddy, whom he didn’t see often enough to his liking.

Summer was almost over, and the series of murders, though still present in a corner of his mind, seemed so far away, masked by the carefree holiday. Reality suddenly rushed back to him, and to the rest of the Auror Department, when a fifth body was found.

Harry watched his colleagues place numbers beside the clues, cast magic fingerprint detection and environmental memory spells, and photograph every square inch of the victim and the crime scene.

The young woman, Briony Talbot, was half curled up with her head resting on the kerb in the middle of a wide, dark and damp tunnel with the only light coming from both ends. Her open eyes stared blankly at the exit, her feet and hands bound in a manner similar to all the previous victims. Her beautiful blue witch's robe was dirty and torn, as if she had been dragged across the rocky ground before she died.

Five women, killed in the same way, their bodies left in full view in the open, as if the killer wanted to make fun of the Aurors, to make them feel their incompetence, to prove that he was smarter than them and that they would never be able to apprehend him. That was the feeling Harry had as he watched the scene.

As he lit up the body with his wand, his gaze was drawn to a mark just behind the young woman's naked heel. He approached and crouched down, then ran his finger over it to check that it wasn't a speck of dirt. No, he did see well. Six little black dots were drawn on the skin, contrasting with the whiteness of the corpse.

“Chief ? What is it ?” Jack asked, noticing his worried look.

Harry suddenly straightened up and turned to his colleagues. “I need to check something.”

Without waiting for their answers, he turned his heels and rushed out of the tunnel before apparating, reappearing in front of St Mungo. He crossed the long white corridors to the Forensic Medical Wing, stopping in front of the medical office in charge of the autopsies of the victims of his cases.

“Doctor Lehmann !” he called, banging on the door. “Doctor Lehmann ! It's Harry Potter from the Auror Department ! I need to see you, it's urgent !”

The door opened, revealing the surprised face of the coroner's young assistant. “Officer ? What's going on ?”

“Doctor Lehmann, is he in ? I have to speak to him, it's important,” Harry answered urgently.

The voice of the coroner echoed through the room behind the assistant. “Potter ? What in Merlin's name are you doing making such a racket ?”

Harry forced his way into the office. “I need to see the pictures you took of the four asphyxiation murder victims, especially if you have, of their feet.”

The two forensics healers got the files for him and helped him find the pictures he was looking for but didn't understand what he was getting at.

“This one !” Harry exclaimed. He placed the photo next to the other three pictures showing the heels of the young women. “They look like moles, but they aren't. They are very distinct marks, drawn by the killer himself. One dot for the first victim, two for the second, and so on.”

The auror was thinking aloud, interrupting to turn to the healer, anger tinting the tone of his voice. “You noticed it ! Why didn't it show up in the autopsy reports ?!”

“I thought they were just birthmarks, or maybe tattoos, even though it's a strange place to get them,” the man replied with a sheepish look on his face. “I didn't think it was important. Now that I’m seeing these photos together…”

“This proves that there really is only one man involved. Merlin, the madman marks his victims after killing them.” Harry turned his attention back to the doctor and his assistant. “You'd better get ready, another body's coming.”

“Another murder ?”

“Mm. This one's got six dots on the heel.”

“Six ? Not five ?” the coroner's apprentice asked.

“What ?”

“There's one too many. There have only been four bodies so far, this one will be the fifth. Are you sure it was six ?”

Harry held his breath ; his thoughts were chaotically chained in his mind. Could there have been a murder that the Aurors would not have known about, given the murderer's six months of inactivity ? A fifth victim never found and that this one was actually the sixth ?

Back at the office, after informing his team of his findings, Harry and his colleagues went through all the files from the beginning, summarising all the information they had.

“What kind of a madman would leave a mark on his victims like this ?” Williamson commented, looking at one photo after another, the incomprehension clear in his eyes.

“Why is file number five marked with a question mark ?” Jack asked.

“We've found five bodies, but the last one has six dots on the heel,” Harry replied. “That means we have to find the fifth victim. Just like we absolutely must find this nutcase.”

“This scumbag is going to have to pay,” Ron whistled between his teeth, looking at the photos over Williamson's shoulder.

In the days that followed, the Aurors launched a huge operation to find the missing victim, and surveyed the surrounding towns and villages, Wizarding and Muggle alike, asking residents and shopkeepers about possible missing persons. Additional flying brigades were recruited to survey the surroundings of the capital, trying to cast perception spells over a large defined area.

Harry would only go home to shower and change, before returning immediately to the Ministry, taking the time to hug Ginny on the doorstep and reassure her as best he could.

“Don't worry, I'll be back before you know it.”

“Tomorrow night I'll cook and this time I promise I won't burn it. Be there on time.”

“You can count on me,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Come on, go home now.”

While part of the team was outside, Harry and Jack stayed at the office, taking advantage of the quiet of the night to study the maps of the areas being inspected, both leaning over the small table where they were laid out.

“Here, mark here : intersection Railway Street and Nelson Street.”

Jack made a star appear on the map with a wave of his wand. The two Aurors looked at the map, on which five glittering marks indicated each place where a body had been found.

“Kiddo, what do you think it means ?” Harry suddenly asked.

“With two more dots it could make the Big Dipper.”

The Auror turned his head towards the younger one before hitting the back of his skull.

“What an idiot. Tsk. How do you expect to become a competent investigator ?! You have to find something in common. The victims have nothing to do with each other except that they are women in their twenties. They didn't know each other, they had never had relations in common, their blood status was different.”

Harry moved back into his chair, tapping the surface of the table with the tip of his index finger while he continued to think aloud, more for himself than for the purpose of sharing it. “Why kill in these places ? Do they have a special meaning for him ? Or is it because these are places he knows well ? He must have started killing in a place that was familiar to him, where he felt comfortable. Then he continued to expand his territory when he realised he wasn't getting caught. The more confident he became, the further away he got.”

Suddenly he pulled the map in front of him and pointed to one of the stars. “There, the first murder. He must live next door.”

“There's a residential area right there,” Jack pointed.

At dawn, the two Aurors went to the small, mostly witchy neighbourhood, close to the banks of the Thames. They started their long morning of door-to-door, questioning the inhabitants about any strange facts or suspicious people. More than once they were received with insults or hostility, but this did not divert them from their objective.

“How many are left ?” Harry asked his apprentice, as the sun shone high in the sky.

“Another fifteen or so,” he replied with a sigh, scratching the name of the family they had just visited out of his notebook.

They walked past an alleyway from which a childish cry escaped. The two men looked at each other before moving slowly, discerning bits of conversation between two children.

“I'm sure it's him,” a little girl cried. “Charles's also disappeared last week and he hasn't come back. Do you think Lucky is dead ?”

A teenage girl was hugging her. “Of course not, he's not dead. We're going to keep looking for him.”

When the Aurors questioned them a few moments later, the girls answered that the neighbourhood dogs had been mysteriously disappearing for some time, without anyone being able to find them.

“Mummy says that someone is stealing the dogs. But the night Lucky disappeared, I saw the strange boy waiting outside our house,” the older of the two told them.

“The weird boy ?” Harry asked.

“Yes, his name is Donnie Spencer, he's a squib. He lives in the house with the big garden and the white gate, right over there,” she replied, pointing at her. He's always dressed in a school uniform.

The gate of the Spencer residence was ajar. Harry and Jack sneaked into the garden and walked up the small driveway to the house. The Auror knocked on the door, without answer. Looking around, he noticed that the windows were covered with sheets of newspaper from the inside, and gave a questioning glance to his colleague who shrugged his shoulders, just as confused as he was. They walked along the side of the building and ended up in the back garden, devoid of any vegetation other than the poorly tended lawn.

Harry's gaze was caught by several mounds of overturned earth and he approached, slowly pulling his wand from the pocket of his cloak. Quickly he moved the earth, and in front of the horrified eyes of the two men a bloody plastic bag appeared. The Auror slowly spread the edges of the bag and they discovered the mutilated body of what looked like a dog. Jack turned around sharply, heaving, and it took him a few moments to pull himself together.

“Who are you ?” asked a voice behind them, startling them.

They turned around in the same movement and found themselves facing a young man, maybe sixteen or seventeen, dressed in a school uniform, his backpack on his shoulder. The expression on his face was vaguely curious, and he did not seem worried about finding strangers in his garden.

Sitting across from Donnie Spencer in the small interrogation room, Harry could barely contain his anger.

“Did you kill them ? Why did you do it ?”

The boy frowned, an innocent look painted on his face. “Who did I kill ?”

“You son of a-” Harry paused, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before continuing. “It was you who killed those women, just as you slaughtered those dogs, wasn't it ?”

The Aurors had dug up several dozen animals, in varying states of decomposition, some of which were already nothing more than skeletons. Williamson and Ron had joined them just after they sent a signal.

“Can you tell me what that means, Harry ?” his senior had asked him. “It's macabre indeed, but they are not human remains. What are we doing here ?”

“It's pretty clear, isn't it ? He trained on the dogs before taking action on the young women,” Harry replied.

“He's a sixteen year old kid, you're going a bit too far.”

“And teenagers are incapable of killing ? I seem to remember confronting a man who started his career as a murderer in school,” had countered the young Auror. “I'm telling you it's him! I'm going to make him talk, you'll see.”

He had turned his heels before Williamson could react, and had disapparated to the Ministry where the suspect was already waiting for him. The latter had been taken by Jack earlier that afternoon.

In the interrogation room, the teenager calmly confessed to him that he had killed the animals. “I did kill the dogs, sir, but I did not kill any humans.”

The tone of his voice contained no trace of remorse. Harry rose abruptly and grabbed Spencer by the collar of his jacket, over the small table that separated them.

“Don't play with me, you scum ! I know you killed them. I know you did it !”

“Are you- Are you trying to get me to confess by bullying me ?” asked his suspect, looking falsely scared.

It took all his control for Harry not to actually hit him. He took a long breath and loosened his grip on the young man's clothes, who took the opportunity to sit down again.

“If you don't want me to hit you, you should tell me the truth. Why did you kill them ? Why did you kill those women ?” he ended in an angry shout.

The teenager kept his eyes glued to the ground for a few moments before he sat up in his seat and held the Auror's gaze. “Do you need to have a reason to kill someone ?” he whispered softly.

“What did you say ?”

“You should hit me,” he continued with a laugh. “Who knows ? Maybe I could confess.”

Harry stood still ; Spencer's emotionless gaze prevented him from thinking rationally. His body acted instinctively and the sensation of his fist colliding with the boy's face seemed to bring him back to reality. At the same time, Williamson burst into the room, grabbed the teenager and pulled him away from Harry.

“Harry ! That’s enough !

“I'm telling you it's him, Lance ! He just told me there doesn't have to be a reason to kill someone !”

His senior closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger in a gesture of frustration. “It has just been confirmed that he had an alibi for the nights of the murders.”

“What ?”

“We have verified what he was doing at each incident, it was not him.”

“No, that's impossible. It's him, I'm sure of it.”

“It's over, Harry.”

Williamson escorted the boy out of the room and left his colleague alone behind.

“If it's not him, then who is it ?!” Harry called out in the empty room.

Still furious, Harry waited at his desk until Williamson had escorted the teenager and his parents, in a hurry to leave, out of the Department. He glanced at his watch, which read eight o'clock. He got up, trying not to disturb Jack, who had dozed off on the desk next to his, and tried to locate Ron in the large room before he remembered that he had gone home to eat.

“Harry, where are you going ?” his senior asked, interrupting his conversation with a colleague as the young auror was about to leave the room while putting on his cloak.

“I'm going to catch the culprit,” he replied abruptly, before heading for the door.

“You're going to wear yourself out before you can catch him, you brat !” Williamson said.

The latter sighed, shaking his head slightly, before turning his attention back to his interlocutor.

Harry came out of the Ministry, surprised by the almost autumnal coolness of the dusk, and, with a little dry crackle, apparated. He appeared just before the tunnel where the last victim had been discovered, determined not to give up his hunt.

“The murders all took place between nine and eleven o'clock in the evening,” he murmured, expressing his thoughts aloud. “If I go to the scene of the crime, I might find something, a detail that would have escaped us.”

Artificial light from the street lamps illuminated the silent darkness. He approached the tunnel entrance with a determined step and took his wand out of his pocket to light his way.

“I won't stop until I find something. I'm going to make this madman pay.”

Once in the tunnel he thought he heard a suspicious sound. He whispered a quick _Nox_ and found himself plunged into darkness, perceiving only the muffled sounds of the city and the familiar smell of tobacco. Someone was smoking nearby. He turned his head, trying to discern something despite his poor vision, when he fleetingly saw the glow of a cigarette a few metres further down the tunnel.

Standing out in the faint light coming from a hole in the stone wall, a silhouette was half-lying down, exactly where Briony Talbot's body had been. Harry stepped forward cautiously, watching the shadow stand up and sit on the pavement ; it was clearly a person, dressed in a dark anorak, hood up. He saw them bring their hands to their neck in a parody of strangulation and let out an unhealthy laugh at the same time, almost as if they were reliving the scene.

“What the fuck ?” the young man whispered in an almost inaudible breath.

The Auror hardly dared to believe his eyes. Here was his suspect right there in front of him, within spell's reach. He slowly raised his wand without a sound and as he approached, his foot stumbled into a stone that rolled and fell off the pavement, landing on the rocky ground a few centimetres below. The noise seemed to resound incredibly loud in the silence of the half-enclosed space. Alerted, the murderer rose abruptly and began to flee.

“Damn it !” Harry swore, chasing after him, wand up, not even taking the time to utter a _Lumos_.

He ran through the long tunnel and stopped shortly before the exit, realising he had lost sight of his suspect. He probed the darkness with his eyes, without success. Suddenly he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, his instinct warning him of the danger, but it was too late.

Before he had time to turn around, he felt the painful impact of a heavy object against the back of his skull. The shock sent him to the ground, causing him to drop his wand, which rolled a few metres away. His vision blurred for a few seconds and a deafening sound rang in his ears. Then he felt something running down his neck and the side of his face.

Disoriented, he tried to get up but was thrown to the ground again when the man turned him violently on his back and pushed him to the hard floor, a feeling of vertigo triggered by the sudden change of position. He found himself trapped between the thighs of his attacker, who was standing above him.

He felt the murderer's hands reach for his neck in the dark and tried in vain to push him away, his arms feeling as if they were made of cotton. The man did not seem imposing at first, but he was strong, probably stronger than the Auror.

He tightened his grip around Harry's throat. The young man panicked, his breath suddenly cut. He fought harder and harder. He reached up to grab his attacker's face while his legs tried to find support on the wet and slippery concrete floor to tip him over.

However, despite his efforts and his will, he could feel his strength gradually leaving him and his vision slowly darkening. The hands clasped around his windpipe were merciless, not letting a single trickle of air pass through, depriving his body of oxygen. The young man felt his lungs burning and tears streaming down his face, the ringing in his ears more powerful than ever. Above him, the murderer was breathing noisily, his whole being tense from the excitement of suffocating his victim.

Harry was absolutely terrified and desperately fighting for survival. _Was this how the young women had also felt when they died_ ? _No_ , _he couldn't die like that, it was just too stupid_ . His body was now shaken by spasms, caused by the uncontrollable movements of his diaphragm fighting the lack of air. _Ginny_ . His muscles started to relax and he let his arms fall down. _He was going to disappoint Ginny again by not keeping his promise to be home on time_.

Then it all stopped, and he let himself be swallowed up by the silence and darkness. 


	3. -3-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have written up to chapter 8 and I'm not sure how long this story will be but I think it'll be at least twenty chapters ? I don't know yet. What I do know is how it ends and where I'm going with the plot.  
> Updates might not be as quick after this one but I won't let too much time pass in between. I'm a quick writer and I have some time on my hands at the moment ! (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

Letting out a plaintive moan, Harry gradually woke up and squinted his eyes in an attempt to see more clearly in the darkness. He was cold, his body having been in prolonged contact with the wet, icy stone floor. He must have been unconscious, but didn't know how long ; probably no more than a few dozen minutes.

He straightened up and shook his head while blinking his eyes to get the blurred feeling out of his sight and observed his surroundings. He was still in the tunnel, he could discern the pale lights of the street lamps not far from the exit and hear the sounds of the city in the background.

The young man raised his wrist and glanced at his watch before noticing that the hands were no longer moving ; they were frozen at eight thirty-four. He sighed, passing a hand over his neck.

Suddenly the vivid images of what had happened to him earlier in the evening assailed him and he rose abruptly, ignoring the feeling of vertigo it caused him. He leaned with one hand against the wall of the tunnel to stabilise himself, then scanned the ground in search of his wand, without being able to find it.

“The son of a bitch must have taken it with him, to make sure he left me unarmed,” he muttered, feeling pissed off before staggering towards the exit.

He had to go to the Ministry immediately, to alert his colleagues. With luck, not much time had elapsed for the Aurors to be able to track down the suspect. Unable to aparate or signal his presence to the Knight Bus, he took the small dark path down towards the main road.

Fighting a new wave of nausea, he finally reached a deserted crossroads and stopped for a moment to catch his breath. Suddenly, he heard rapid footsteps resounding on the asphalt and he raised his head, just in time to see the silhouette of a man who collided with him at high speed, throwing them both to the ground.

Thinking it was definitely not his night, Harry managed to get down on all fours and closed his eyes when the street began to capsize violently. After a few moments he got up, took a few steps back down the road, and began to furiously rant to the man who had jostled him, looking for him with his eyes.

“What's wrong with you ?! Can't you look where you-”

The squeal of a car's tyres and the dazzling headlights that blinded him were the last thing he perceived before the impact knocked him unconscious again, an expletive on the tip of his tongue.

He could hear voices. Voices arguing, and the sound of an object crashing to the ground.

“How could you do such a thing, Valerie ?” one man cried angrily.

“Please Jason, it's not what you think !” a woman answered, tears straining her voice. “Troy is just a friend !”

“Leave this house, I never want to see you again. You can forget about the Gilmore inheritance.”

Dramatic music rose and Harry realized that what he was hearing was coming from a television in the room he was in. Slowly opening his eyes, he noticed that the yellowed paint ceiling above him had some cracks.

He straightened up in the uncomfortable bed on which he was lying, pushing the blue sheets away with one hand before releasing a hissing sound of pain. He inspected his arm and realized that he was attached to an infusion, with the green venous catheter on his wrist that was sensitive to the puncture site.

He turned his head, observing his surroundings. His bed was next to a door, there was a second one next to the window, half-hidden behind a dividing curtain in the middle of the room. City lights lit up the dark night behind the panes. The television was on, the volume louder than necessary, his neighbour visibly captivated by an episode of some soap opera. So he was in a Muggle hospital ; he had probably been transported there after being hit by the car.

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, put his hand over his face and then through his hair, relieved to notice that the feeling of vertigo had finally disappeared. He got up and began to walk to the small bathroom, before the taut tubing of his IV stopped him. Without thinking, he tugged at it and the catheter pulled out of his arm, spraying the floor with blood. Panicking, he rushed to the bathroom and pulled paper towels from the dispenser next to the sink to press them against the bleeding wound.

After a few minutes the bleeding had finally stopped and he washed his hands, taking the opportunity to splash water on his face and wash away the remains of fatigue. He straightened up, pulled out more small paper towels to wipe himself, and opened his eyes.

He froze and stared at the reflection sent back to him by the mirror above the washbasin. Slowly, with an almost hesitant movement, he raised his right hand and the man in front of him imitated him. He touched his cheek with the tip of his index finger, and so did he. It was him, but not his face. Feeling a drop of sweat running down his back, Harry let his gaze slide over his body. His body that wasn't his own but that of a complete stranger. He let out a scream.

He could hear his roommate's voice coming through the half-open door asking “are you alright in there, lad ?”. _No_. No, he wasn't alright. The young man grabbed the edge of the sink and tried to regain his composure. He inhaled and then exhaled for a long time, taking the time to organize his thoughts.

In his mind, he went back to the events of the past night, whispering his thoughts aloud. “Good. All is well. I left the Ministry at eight o'clock and went to the scene of the crime. There I met the murderer.” He unconsciously put a hand on his neck. “We fought and he left me there for dead. I regained consciousness. Once I got out of the tunnel, I headed towards the city. Someone pushed me.”

In a flash the features of the man who had bumped into him appeared to him. It was that same face, reflected in the mirror in front of him. Young, light-skinned and with big dark eyes and full lips, he couldn't have been more than twenty-five years old. He had a round face but a well defined jaw and a straight nose. His black hair, cut short at the sides, fell in disorderly strands on his forehead.

“At least I'm not so ugly,” he whispered, before shaking his head. “But how is that possible ? What's going on ? Have we swapped bodies ? Is he walking the streets with my face ? Merlin, what if he's a Muggle ?!”

He rushed out of the bathroom, looking for his clothes. Well, the clothes of the young man whose body he was occupying. He found them neatly arranged in a small cupboard in front of his bed ; a black jacket, a light T-shirt and dark trousers. In the pockets of the jacket he found an identity card : Henry Cooper. The Auror laughed nervously at the similarity of their names. British nationality, one metre seventy-one, born in-

“1990 ?!”

He heard the voice of his neighbour answering him through the curtain, “the fall of the USSR !”. Harry ignored him, keeping his eyes fixed on the ID card. Surely it was a joke, it couldn't have been possible. The actual date was 1986. Probably a typographical error. Suddenly feeling oppressed in the small room, he dropped the jacket and the papers he was holding in his hands and went out into the corridor.

He had barely walked a few metres, lost in his thoughts, when he felt a cold draught slide down his skin, more precisely his back and buttocks. He raised his head up sharply and saw that the medical staff and patients around him were looking at him, some disapprovingly, others smiling, commenting on his apparent nudity. He was in fact dressed only in a hospital gown with an open back, offering a perfect view of the back of his body. He hastily turned back, cursing the Muggles and their ridiculous clothes.

Back in the room, he hurried to get rid of the hospital gown and put on the clothes he had found. Once his jacket was on his back, he felt something inside the fabric. After a few minutes of fumbling around, he discovered a secret pocket from which he pulled a dark wooden wand, slightly longer than his own, and an Auror badge from the Ministry of Magic.

A wave of relief filled Harry, who felt some of the tension in his muscles disappear and a smile appeared on his lips. “Thank you Merlin ! He’s an Auror. He’ll surely go to the Ministry. All I have to do is wait for him there !”

As he walked quickly through the hospital corridors he took one last look at the photo on the badge, perplexed. “I wonder if he's a new recruit. I've never seen him before. Maybe a transfer ?” 

With a shrug of his shoulders, he put it in his pocket and walked towards the exit.

He used the wand he had found to apparate directly into the Ministry's reception hall. The echo of his hurried footsteps resounded through the deserted corridors leading him to the Auror Department. He pushed open the big front door and went straight to the break room to help himself to a hot cup of coffee and perhaps find something to nibble on, his stomach empty from the previous day crying out for food. Once he had his victuals in hand, he slumped down on the small couch at the back of the room and let his head rest against the backrest with his eyes closed.

His colleagues had probably been looking for him, worrying that he hadn't come back. They were going to be surprised when he told them about his misadventures, he thought, smiling. He suddenly raised his head and his face became serious again.

“Ginny. Oh, Merlin,” he sighed, running his hand through his hair. “She's going to be furious. She must have been worried sick. I'm going to get my head blown off.”

The young man shuddered as he imagined the wrath of his companion and promised to reassure her once he had reported back to his colleagues. However, he would wait until he had found his real body before going to see her. He got up and walked into the large, dimly lit room where all the Aurors' desks were located.

“Is anyone there ?” he called, noticing that the space was empty, which seemed strange to him given the current situation. “Where is everyone ?”

Suddenly, he spotted an unknown man, elegantly dressed and visibly focused on reading a document, sitting at a desk. Specifically, sitting at Harry's desk. The young Auror sighed, exasperated, and walked towards the man.

“Another one of those bloody journalists ! They really have no scruples, infiltrating the Department in this way,” he mumbled.

He stood behind the man and tapped him on the shoulder with the back of his hand, noticing that he had small objects in his ears.

“Oy ! Who are you ? What are you doing here reading confidential documents ?”

The man turned around. He was young, about thirty years old, had an angular face with drawn features and his brown eyes were underlined with dark circles. He gave him a surprised look and removed his earplugs, a faint music playing from them.

“Can I help you ?” he asked in a tired voice.

“Didn't you hear me ? Who are you ?”

The man looked around, as if to make sure they were alone, and then stood up, facing Harry.

“I'm an Auror of the Department, the Lieutenant-”

“Lieutenant ? Tsk. If you are so keen to pass yourself off as one of the investigators, you should at least make the effort to find out about your subject. We have no such titles here.”

“What are you saying ?”

“Merlin, why is fate coming after me ?!” Harry wondered aloud, looking up at the sky. “Come on, come here,” he continued, grabbing the “ _lieutenant_ ” by the arm.

The man looked at him with a bewildered look, before trying to pull his arm out sharply. The Auror tightened its grip and dragged him forcibly towards the exit. As they walked, the man managed to free himself and reversed roles, grabbing Harry's wrist in turn.

“Sir, try to calm down and go home now,” he said, continuing to walk towards the front door of the Department and releasing his grip as he reached the threshold.

“Merlin, you're the one who should be going home,” Harry replied, before unceremoniously pushing him through the door and locking it behind him. “And don't come back !”

The “ _lieutenant_ ” watched him for a moment through the window, visibly caught off guard by the turn of events, before trying to open the door, repeatedly pulling the handle. He ended up turning his heels and disappearing into the corridor.

Meanwhile, Harry returned to his desk and fell back into his chair, sweeping across the table. He found a wand and an object left behind by the intruder, a sort of small dark rectangle whose surface reflected back to him like a mirror. When his hand touched it, the object suddenly lit up and the time was displayed.

“What's that ?” Harry whispered, puzzled. “Probably some kind of enhanced mirror. Mh.”

He dropped it back on his desk and turned his attention to the documents scattered there, not recognising those of the ongoing investigation. He raised his head and looked at his colleagues' desks, a strange feeling overwhelming him when he realised that everything seemed to have changed since his last visit to the Department. Where previously there had been carts full of files, he could see chests of drawers with closed drawers. The furniture was not arranged in the same way and the single workspace was separated into several rooms by large glass panels.

“What is- How is this possible ? What's going on ?”

A rustle of wings startled him and he saw an owl swoop through a hatch above the front door. The bird flew over the room, placed a sheet of paper on one of the desks, and disappeared as suddenly as it had arrived.

Harry approached and grabbed the letter. It was a transfer order in the name of Henry Cooper, Auror Corporal First Division, assigned to the Violent Crimes Section. He tilted his head, whistling between his teeth, when he read Cooper's supposed birth date, 1990 again.

“It doesn't make sense. This is 1986.” He continued his reading and stopped again when he saw the supposed date of transfer. “October, 8, 2016 ? Whoever wrote this is definitely nuts,” he said as he put the paper down.

At the same moment, he heard the sound of a key turning in a lock, the front door opened suddenly and the man he had just chased away burst in, visibly furious.

“Merlin what a stubborn git,” Harry sighed. “How did you even get the keys ? You should leave while I'm still nice to you-”

The intruder abruptly grabbed his jacket and pulled him towards the exit, while declaring “That's enough, it's gone on long enough. Get out now !”

With a quick, fluid motion, Harry grabbed his wand and made a pair of handcuffs appear. He put them on the young man's wrist and closed the other handcuff on the metal bar of one of the uprights of the nearest glass panel. The latter remained motionless for a second, looking incredulously at his shackled arm, before pulling on it several times. Eventually he stopped fighting and let his forehead fall back against the glass.

“Merlin, what do you want from me ?” he said to Harry, straightening up to turn towards him, a lock of his brown hair with its backwards hair falling back onto his forehead. “Who are you ? Are you an Auror ?”

“Who did you think I was ?”

“Let me go. This is no fun at all.”

“I don't like it either, but that's all you deserve for wanting to break into the Department like this. I don't have time for this nonsense, so shut up now.” The Auror glanced at the big clock on the wall which read twenty past one. “Where have they all gone ?” he asked impatiently. “We really have to stop the murderer, we have no time to lose.”

He turned and walked towards the exit.

“Hey! I told you to let me go !” the handcuffed man shouted, desperately pulling on his restricted wrist. “Let me go ! Where are you going ? Hey ! Let me go !”

Once out of the Ministry, Harry apparated in an alley near the city center and headed towards Piccadilly Circus in the hope of finding colleagues on patrol there. When he arrived in the main square, he stopped, stunned, not recognising the place. He turned around and watched the huge illuminated billboards displaying various advertisements, seemingly straight out of a futuristic universe he could never have imagined.

The few passers-by who came and went around him were dressed in strange clothes, their mostly sober wardrobe contrasted with the brightly coloured fashion and denim clothes he was used to seeing among the Muggles. Even the cars were different, longer and less angular, their gleaming bodies reflected the artificial lights projected by the giant screens, street lamps and shop fronts.

Harry was overcome by a feeling of vertigo that had nothing to do with any head bump. He felt his pulse racing and his thoughts jostling in his mind. 2016. This was what was written in the letter he had read. Was it really possible ? Had he travelled through time, from 1986 to 2016 ? Confused and not knowing what to do, he resigned himself to returning to the office, hoping to find a solution the next day.

“Woah, what's he doing there ?” a surprised female voice whispered not far from him. “Why is he sleeping there ? Handcuffed ? Unbelievable. Someone managed to handcuff Lieutenant Douchebag !”

“We should wake him up,” a man's voice answered, tinged with apprehension.

“Wait, wait ! Don't wake him up ! I have to immortalize this ! We must absolutely congratulate the one who did this.”

Harry perceived the sound of a camera shutter and straightened up, peeling off from his cheek a piece of paper that had stuck to it while he was sleeping. He had returned to the Ministry and spent the rest of the night there in the company of the unknown man, still attached to his metal bar. They had both finally fallen asleep after staring at each other in the eye for a long time while exchanging a few insults.

The Department was gradually filling up with the noises that accompanied the beginning of the day, the morning discussions of the Aurors filtering through the large glass panels, the aroma of fresh coffee permeating the space. Attracted by the smell, the young man stood up, startling the two new arrivals who stared at him with curiosity.

The woman was young, her dark skin and thick hair in a fuzzy bun reminded him of Hermione. She had a friendly face and brown eyes, full of mischief. She was dressed in a dark and elegant witch's outfit, close to her body, which revealed black carrot pants with a high waist. In her hand she held a small dark mirror identical to the one he had seen on his desk.

Her colleague was older than her, pale with dirty blond hair, a pair of round glasses perched on his nose, he seemed less bold and more reserved. He wore the regulation Auror uniform, which fell a little too wide over his shoulders.

Before anyone could utter a word, a man in his fifties and of small stature made his entrance, a senior Auror insignia fixed to his chest. He noisily pushed a chair in his path, which woke the handcuffed man up.

“What's going on here ?” the old Auror asked. “What's wrong with him ? Untie him.”

He walked past the young Aurors and put his bag on a desk a little further away ; he seemed used to the antics of his team and made no further remarks about the incident.

“Meeting in five minutes,” he told them.

“Yes, Chief !” the blond Auror replied.

The young woman turned to the Lieutenant and raised her wand to free him. “Perhaps you should consider keeping your personal activities out of the office, Lieutenant,” she said in a very serious voice. “Anyway, it's just a piece of advice.”

The latter glanced at her with dark eyes before getting up, while rubbing his sore wrist, and he walked towards the exit without a word.

“You're letting him go just like that ?” Harry suddenly asked, reminding them of his presence. “He might come back.”

“Of course he's coming back, he works here,” the young woman replied. “But who are you ?”

Last night's events unfolded at full speed in his mind ; his encounter with the murderer, the body that wasn't his, the fact that it might have been 2016 and not 1986. The man he had tied up had therefore told the truth and was indeed a representative of the Magic Order. He closed his eyes, breathed in, and hoped his bluff would work.

“I am Ha- Henry Cooper. I have been assigned to the violent crimes section,” he said.

“Oh yes, we were told we were expecting a new recruit,” the Chief intervened as he approached him, the transfer order in his hands. “Welcome to the team then.”

“I'm Liam Savage, delighted to meet you,” the blond Auror introduced himself.

“And I, Rose Granger-Weasley,” the young lady said with a big smile. “You're twenty-six years old, aren't you ? I'm not the youngest anymore,” she added proudly.

“Granger-Weasley ? Harry asked without thinking. “Like Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger ?”

“Yes, they're my parents, why ?” she asked curiously.

He didn't answer, as the news felt like a sledgehammer blow to him. What did he expect ? If it was indeed 2016, thirty years had passed, and it was normal for his friends to have had children. Ron and Hermione would now be over fifty ; fifty-six years old to be exact.

“Is your father still an Auror ?”

“Merlin, no. He left the Department almost thirty years ago ! Your information is quite outdated.”

The Chief interrupted their exchange when he signalled to his team to gather at the same time as the Lieutenant was coming back. Everyone took their seats at their respective desks and Harry sat down mechanically in his chair before being dislodged by his new enemy.

“Why is he still here ?” asked the latter in a disapproving tone.

“He's the new member of our team,” the Chief replied, waving to Harry to sit at the empty desk next to the Lieutenant. “Henry Cooper, a first division corporal, with no experience in violent crime.”

 _Tsk_ . _I've worked here for five years, I'm not a rookie_ , thought the young Auror bitterly.

“They really let anyone become an investigator, nowadays,” whispered the man beside him.

Harry glanced at him scornfully without comment.

“He is twenty-six years old, born in 1990, so he is the youngest in the section. I'm counting on you to train him properly.”

 _It sounds like he is talking about a child._ _I'm sure I have a lot more experience than they do_. He slumped back in his chair and watched the members of his new team. Except for Lieutenant Asshole, they all looked pretty friendly, even the Chief, whose face seemed vaguely familiar to him. However, he did not intend to linger in this time and was already thinking about a solution to return in 1986.

Later in the morning Harry took advantage of his colleagues' inattention to slip away. He apparated in the main street of Diagon Alley and wandered for a moment without any real direction, noting the differences between the shops of his time and those of 2016. The ice-cream parlour was still there, just as Ollivander, the hatter, on the other hand, had changed managers and storefronts. He stopped in front of one of the newsstands and grabbed the day's edition of the Daily Prophet.

He quickly went through the paper, the news feeling both familiar and foreign, always the same old story, before putting it back and continuing on his way. His footsteps led him to a colourful shop he knew so well, _Weasley Wizard Wheezes Products_. With a pounding heart, he started to walk towards the door before turning back.

“No, I'm not going to stay here. I'm going back to 1986. I will see him there again.” His voice trembled, betraying his emotions, and he ran his hand through his hair. “Why is this happening to me ? Why do I suddenly find myself here ?”

He closed his eyes, the events of that fateful night clear in his mind, and he stopped suddenly. “The tunnel. I found myself here after crossing it. That's it ! If it sent me here, it can take me home. I can go home. If I go through it again, I can go home !”

Without wasting any time, Harry apparated and reappeared in the small path leading to the tunnel. He made his way quickly to the entrance and then ran along the endless dark corridor, full of hope. At last he saw the exit, where the white light was coming from outside.

He found himself outside, blinking to get used to the sudden brightness of the light and looked around, breathing heavily. Below, he could see tall bars of buildings that had never existed in 1986. He raised his arms, crossing his hands at the back of his skull and uttered a cry of frustration. “Why doesn't it work ?! Why am I still here ?”

He turned around, set his determined gaze on the tunnel and ran through it again. The landscape that greeted him at the exit was the same as when he arrived ; it was still 2016. He turned his heels and ran back and forth several times before stopping and letting himself slide against the desperate stone wall.

“Oh, Ginny. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I can't make it back,” he murmured, taking his face in his hands, unable to stop the tears that began to run down his cheeks. “What did I do that was so wrong to deserve this ?”

He remained still for a long time, alone in the dark tunnel, cursing the fate that was befalling him. Once calmed down, he got up, his eyes burning with determination.

“There must be a reason why I'm here. I'm sure there's a way home. Don't worry Ginny, I'll be back. After all, I promised I'd be back before you know it.”

And he was going to keep that promise.


	4. -4-

The afternoon was drawing to a close when Harry returned to the Ministry. He fell heavily in his chair and inadvertently knocked his desk neighbour's elbow, who interrupted the writing of his report to give him a scornful glance.

“Can't you be careful ?”

Harry ignored him and began to empty the contents of his jacket pockets on his desk. He could hear the Lieutenant mumbling “you little brat” as he returned to his task. The Auror continued to search his pockets in the hope of finding what he was looking for. The time to leave work was approaching and he remembered that he still didn't know where Henry Cooper lived. He thought he could find the young man's address on his identity papers and, after a few minutes, he did find it, punctuating his discovery with a loud “ha ha !”.

At his side, the Lieutenant bowed his head, closed his eyes and sighed long and hard.

“Don't you have anything else to do ?” he asked, turning to Harry. “You've had a good idea by disappearing all day, don't you want to do it again ?”

“You know what ? You're right,” Harry answered, getting up. “I'm going home.”

He walked away, but not without turning to his colleague one last time. “See you tomorrow !” he said, blowing him a kiss with a wink.

He could still hear the rain of insults that followed as he passed through the door of the Department.

Harry apparated directly to the address on the paper found in his pocket. He reappeared immediately in front of a small red brick building in the city centre, near a park. The neighbourhood was quiet and the last rays of the autumn sun filtered through the bare branches of the trees.

Henry Cooper lived in a flat on the third and top floor of the building. The flat was not very large and the young man did not seem to own much. Harry walked around the three small rooms and inspected them in detail. There were no pictures of family or friends, the decoration was succinct and impersonal, except for a green plant on the windowsill dancing softly in the sun. Intrigued, the Auror approached to take a closer look at it.

The small, rounded plant resembled moss with short arms appearing at the sides and swaying from left to right. He gently passed his finger over it and it swayed more and more beautifully.

“Neville could probably have told me what kind of plant this is,” Harry thought to himself, amused.

He ended the tour of the flat with the bedroom where there was a large, neatly made bed on which he sat. Then he let himself fall on his back, his arms stretched over his head and closed his eyes.

He woke up slowly, wrapped in the comfortable blankets of his bed. He felt so good that he was tempted to sink a little deeper into this cocoon of warmth and go back to sleep, lulled by the sound of the waves and the fresh, iodised air coming through the half-open bedroom window. He opened his eyes and straightened up sharply in bed.

“Harry ? What is it ?” Ginny's still sleepy voice asked beside him.

“Ginny ?!” he exclaimed, barely believing it. “Is it really you ?” 

He gently grasped his companion's face in his hands.

“Harry ? What's the matter, what's-”

“It was just a dream. Yes, a dream,” he murmured, before looking into the young woman's eyes. “This is 1986, right ?”

“What are you talking about ?” she worried, putting a hand on his forehead. “Are you sure you're okay ?”

“Was it really a dream ? It doesn't matter, I'm really back, that's the most important thing.” He hugged her, relieved, before continuing. “You're not going to believe me Gin, I've travelled until 2016 ! I met Ron and Hermione's daughter ! There were a few idiots too.”

“2016 ? Harry, you must have hit your head really hard last night.”

“What ? No, I- It was just a dream, I-”

The tinkling announcing a firecall echoed through the house and he slowly released her.

“It must be Jack,” he said to her as he stood up. “I'll be right back.”

He went to the living room and stood in front of the fireplace, where the scowling head of the infernal Lieutenant appeared.

“Why are you- ?” he began before turning sharply, a wave of panic suddenly overwhelming him. “Ginny ?! Ginny !”

He opened his eyes, lying on top of the blankets of the bed in Henry Cooper's small flat. It was a dream, it was still 2016. He sighed for a long time. Then he stood up and took his head in his hands, his heart heavy.

Harry had just sat at his desk, gently placing his cup of hot coffee on the table, when the Chief approached with a file in his hands. Next to him, the Lieutenant raised his head and watched the Senior Auror with curiosity.

“Okay. Listen to me, both of you,” their superior began. “There's a case here that I need you to be partners in.”

There was a moment of silence before the two men began to protest at the same time.

“What-,” Harry began.

“It's a joke-”

“-impossible, you can't-”

“-one but not him !”

“-would rather stick a fork in my-”

“That's enough !” bellowed the Chief. “I don't want to hear any more complaining. You are the only ones without a case pending. So I am counting on you to be mature enough and cooperate to solve the investigation.”

He handed the file to Harry and then turned to the Lieutenant.

“And you, I've already told you. If you want to stay in the Section, you're going to have to learn to be a bit of a team player,” he reprimanded him.

“Ooh. Someone's in the hot seat,” Harry whispered, with a little singing tune.

The Lieutenant pushed his shoulder violently, sending him to bump into his desk.

“Hey !” the young Auror exclaimed, raising his arm to pretend to hit him. “Tsk, no respect at all.”

He didn't notice the confused look on his Chief's face, who let out an imperceptible “his attitude reminds me of someone”. Sitting opposite them, Rose and Liam watched the scene and tried to control their laughter, their hands glued to their mouths. As he looked at them, the Lieutenant rose abruptly and grabbed the file from his new partner's hands before moving towards the exit.

“I'm sure this is just the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” Rose finally said, now openly mocking them.

Harry, in turn, stood up, took a last, dark look at his two colleagues, addressed them with a vulgar gesture and hurried to follow his colleague. He found him sitting by the fountain in the Atrium leafing through the case file.

“What have we got ?” he asked the Lieutenant as he approached, before bending over to read the file.

“A man was found dead this morning in St Mungo,” the latter replied, without looking up from the initial report.

“A healer ?”

“A patient. From the psychiatric wing of the hospital,” he said, before closing the file with a quick gesture and getting up.

“Let's go.”

Rupert Plaskitt had turned forty-two a few days earlier. He had been found by a caregiver early that morning, sitting on the chair in his room with a yellow pencil stuck in his carotid artery.

“He had been hospitalized for eleven years in the unit for violent criminals in St Mungo,” the chief medical officer explained, sitting behind his large white desk. “Before that, he had spent five years in prison.”

“What had he done ?” Harry asked her.

“He was a serial killer,” the Lieutenant intervened, sitting next to him. “Didn't you learn anything during your training ? He's quite famous in the judicial world.”

“Serial killer ?” whispered Harry, puzzled by the term he didn't know.

His teammate ignored him and continued questioning the doctor. “Was there anything unusual in the night or in the days before ?”

“No, not that I know of. I can check, we keep records of every event.”

“Did he receive any visits ?”

“His sister comes about once every two months,” the woman replied, before exclaiming. “Ah, yes ! There was Professor Wellick !”

“Professor Wellick ?”

Harry was confused, she pronounced his name as if she expected him to know it.

“A professor of magico-sociology and criminal psychology, he teaches at the Magical Institute of Higher Studies,” his partner in a monotonous tone replied, clearly exasperated. “He teaches at the Auror Academy and conducts training courses at the Department.”

“He sometimes comes to speak with our patients, as part of his research,” she added. “I believe he came to see Plaskitt within the week.”

They left the doctor's office and walked through the long corridors of the department, heading for the exit.

“I've transmitted a list of the staff on site and their alibis to the office,” the Lieutenant said. “All we need to do is to check that they are accurate.”

“It's a pretty violent murder,” Harry said. “Do we know if anyone was after him? I mean, the murderer probably felt a lot of hatred and resentment for killing him that way.”

“Mh. It's not so bad for a rookie,” his partner replied. “You're right, Plaskitt must have had some enemies, given his criminal record. I wouldn't be surprised if someone close to one of his victims decided to take justice into his own hands.”

He took the small rectangular mirror out of his pocket as they approached the exit.

“It will soon be noon,” he said as he glanced at the shimmering surface of the object, before putting it back in his pocket. “That gives us time to visit Professor Wellick.”

The Magical Institute of Higher Studies was located in the middle of a huge green park near the capital, hidden under a Muggle-repelling spell. It consisted of several buildings, some older than others, and the place was in full swing as lunchtime approached. Crowds of students and teachers came and went as Harry looked on in amazement, never having had the opportunity to visit the place before.

After a few seconds of surprise, he hurried to catch up with his colleague who was already heading towards a large white building with recent architecture. They entered the Department of Magico-sociology and Psychology in search of the room in which Wellick was.

They arrived in front of the auditorium a few minutes before the end of his lecture and waited silently by the door. Harry leaned against the wall, folded his arms, and watched his partner coming and going in the corridor with his hands on his hips. The young Auror must have confessed that the Lieutenant seemed competent and fully committed to the investigation despite his execrable character. Perhaps he should make an effort and try to be a little more courteous towards him ?

The door of the auditorium opened and the students left in small groups. The two Aurors waited for the room to empty before entering and approaching the desk where the teacher was busy tidying up his papers and putting them in his bag. When he heard about a professor, Harry had imagined a middle-aged person with grey hair, perhaps even wearing glasses with big black frames, and dressed in academic robes.

The man in question looked nothing like that. J.S. Wellick, as the small gold plate on his dark leather bag indicated, was young, fairly tall and thin with short dark reddish hair and pale skin with freckles. He was dressed in a light-coloured, simple and practical wizard's robe, perfectly fitted to his waist.

Once the investigators had introduced themselves, they questioned the young professor about his visit to Plaskitt a few days earlier.

“I could pass on to you the memories of my interviews, if you wish,” he replied, in his richly timbred voice.

“Did he say anything particular to you on your last visit ?” the Lieutenant asked him, tapping the palm of his hand with his little mirror.

“Not that I can remember. Why are you interested in him ?”

“Rupert Plaskitt was killed early this morning,” Harry informed him. “A pencil stroke to the carotid artery,” he said, mimicking the gesture.

“Oh.”

“Oh ?” the young Auror repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Is that all ?”

“What do you want me to say ? I didn't feel any more sympathy for him than that. I was only interrogating him for the purpose of studying him.”

“To study criminals,” Harry said dismissively. “Why would anyone want to study these freaks ?”

“Officer, why do you arrest killers ?” he asked him in reply. “The victims are already dead, it doesn't bring them back to life.”

“Tsk. What a stupid question. To bring them to justice, to make them pay for their crimes. To bring the victims and their families peace.”

“For my part, I study them to make it easier for the authorities to identify certain personalities likely to commit violent acts. This way we can give them the care they need and prevent avoidable tragedies.”

The Lieutenant's mirror suddenly lit up and began to vibrate in his hand. He walked out of the auditorium while holding the object to his ear and answering “hello ?” Harry didn't hear the rest of the conversation and instead turned his attention to Wellick.

“How is it possible to avoid these murders ?”

“By establishing a profile of the killer. Many serial killers have been stopped thanks to profiling, a science developed by the Muggles.”

“Everyone talks about serial killers, what do you mean by that ?”

The professor did not answer immediately and looked at him curiously.

“Take Plaskitt for example. Between 1995 and 2000, he killed five women using a similar method each time. He drove a Muggle car and roamed the roads looking for hitchhikers.”

Harry sat at one of the desks in the front row, listening attentively to the professor, captivated by his voice.

“Once he had found a victim, it didn't matter if she was a Muggle or a Witch, he would take her to a remote location and abuse her before strangling her with his belt.”

“Each time he would repeat the same thing ?”

“Every time, yes. That's why they are called serial killers. When they commit the same murder at least three times in a period of time ranging from a few days to a few years. The Muggles were the first to use this term, the Department of Magical Justice only discovered it very late, towards the end of the 1980s.”

“What kind of people are these serial killers ?” the Auror asked, fascinated.

“They are usually psychopathic personalities who are considered criminally responsible and can be brought to justice. Relatively intelligent men or women who often take great pleasure in the suffering of others.”

He paused briefly to grab a bottle of water from his desk and take a sip before continuing.

“Plaskitt had been diagnosed as psychotic, specifically paranoid schizophrenic, after spending five years in prison. That is why he was interned in the psychiatric ward of St Mungo, where he needed specific care that the prison environment could not provide him with.”

Harry was about to ask another question, when the Lieutenant returned to the room and informed him that Plaskitt's autopsy had been completed, they could go and get the results in the afternoon.

The two Aurors hurried back to the Ministry in order to get a quick lunch. While the Lieutenant ate alone at his desk, immersing himself in his files, Harry settled into the break room with Rose and Liam. The Chief of Section was sitting on the small couch next to a colleague from the Department, both apparently in the middle of a postprandial siesta.

“Glad to see that you and the Lieutenant came back in one piece,” Rose said with a smile. “We were afraid that one of you would kill the other and get rid of the body !”

“If that had been the case, it would have been a very quick investigation,” Liam intervened.

“It reminds me of my father and Scorpius' father,” Rose laughed. “I remember how they were always ready to jump at each other's throats when we were kids !”

“Scorpius ? It's an unusual name,” Harry said pensively.

“His father's name is Draco, it must run in the family. Anyway, I'll be the one to choose the name for our children.”

Harry almost choked, spitting part of his glass of water out through his nose. He coughed for a few more minutes with Liam patting his back with an anxious look on his face before regaining control of his breathing.

“Woah, careful there, Rookie ! You're too young to leave us ! Why such a reaction ?”

“Draco Malfoy ?”

“Yes, why-”

“It's just that... I mean, Ron Weasley's daughter and Draco Malfoy's son are... Together ?” he said hesitantly, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

“He is my fiancé. It's true that the announcement sent a small shockwave through our families, but our parents have managed to put aside their differences for our good. And Scorpius is a wonderful person.”

Harry could see in the young woman's eyes the clear affection she had for her partner. He imagined the look on Ron's face when he heard the news and it made him smile. He took advantage of their conversation to ask a few questions about the rest of her family.

“Mum still works in the government, although she finished her term as Minister of Magic two years ago.”

Minister of Magic ? He had always known that Hermione could do it, he thought proudly. The young woman told him about the rest of the Weasley clan and her many cousins, before she uttered the name Ginny.

“She is my aunt, she lives in Sweden where she is the coach of a quidditch team.”

“In- In Sweden ?” Harry asked, with a tight throat.

“Mh. She left the country shortly after her husband disappeared. Harry Potter. You must have heard of him, right ?”

He nodded slowly, not trusting his voice to speak.

“He was an Auror. He was my father's partner and his best friend. He disappeared during one of their investigations, thirty years ago.”

“He hasn't- He disappeared ? They never found him ?”

Rose sadly shook her head.

“It’s been very hard for my whole family. I never knew him, but I know that's why my father left the Ministry.”

There were a few moments of silence during which Harry thought about what he just heard. He had just disappeared. What about the murderer? Had he been apprehended?

“And the case he was working on, do you know how it ended ?” he asked eagerly.

“No idea, it was a really long time ago. Maybe the Chief could tell you about it, I think he was already an Auror at that time,” she added, pointing to the drowsy man with a nod of her head.

Already an Auror in 1986 ? Then Harry must have known him, he thought, frowning. His face was indeed familiar now that he was looking at him closely. He tried to imagine him without his greying hair and the wrinkles around his eyes, nose and mouth.

“What was his name again ?”

“Have you forgotten his name ?” Liam asked disbelievingly. “It's Chief Sloper. Jack Sloper.”

The lunch break ended when the Lieutenant stuck his head through the doorway and motioned to Harry to follow him, saying “Hey, runt! There's an autopsy report waiting for us”, before disappearing towards the exit with his jacket on his arm.

“What a little piece of-”

“Slowly, take a deep breath, Rookie,” Rose said, making a soothing gesture with her hands. “You'd better join Lieutenant Bossy before he gets angry.”

Harry quickly caught up with his partner as he ran. He overtook him and tapped the back of his head grumbling “I'll give you runts, you jerk”, before disappearing into the corridor with the Lieutenant on his heels. At no time did he notice his superior who had stood up and watched him from the door of the break room.

The large office in which the forensic scientist received them was a bright and orderly room. The large tables in the middle, on which the doctors worked, were clean and the piles of files were neatly arranged. Large whiteboards were covered with various photographs of human bodies, next to which were annotations written in black felt pen, serving as visual aids to the investigators of the ongoing cases.

Harry curiously inspected the room, surprised by the modernity of the premises, which had obviously been renovated since his last visit. Meanwhile, his partner listened attentively to the coroner, a slender man in his fifties with impeccably coiffed jet-black hair. His dark, piercing eyes were hidden behind a pair of thin round glasses perched on his straight nose.

“The victim was right-handed,” he explained. “If you look at the angle and direction of the pencil, you can see that he inflicted the wound himself. The reconstruction spells that our technicians performed on scene confirm the autopsy result. There was no trace of a third person at the scene at the exact moment of death. This is a suicide.”

The Lieutenant raised his head sharply, taking his eyes off the written report, to stare at the coroner. Harry looked up and sighed.

“What a waste of time and resources. All this for a suicide !”

The coroner turned to him. “You're new, aren't you ? Who are you ?”

“Har-Corporal Henry Cooper. Pleased to meet you Doctor,” he replied, making a small gesture of greeting.

“Dr. Nicholas Adler,” the man courteously replied, nodding his salute.

“That doesn't explain the motive,” the Lieutenant intervened, frowning. “He lived for sixteen years after killing those women. Why choose to commit suicide now ? It doesn't make sense.”

“I don't know,” the doctor replied. “Maybe the owner of the pencil could tell you,” he added, pointing to a photo where it appeared, stuck in the neck of the deceased.

They were able to trace the owner of the pencil, who was none other than Professor Wellick. He received the two Aurors in his study and invited them to immerse themselves in the memories of his last interview with Plaskitt through the pensieve on the table.

They were in the victim's cramped, bright and almost completely empty room in St Mungo. Wellick was sitting in front of a small wooden table with Plaskitt in front of him. The latter seemed to have difficulty holding still and his body was regularly shaken with spasms. He was in a state of general neglect with yellowed teeth, a badly shaved beard and black hair in a battle with grey streaks. It was clear that the man did not seem entirely sane.

“People still think I only killed five people,” he said with a nervous laugh, before leaning over the table and whispering. “But I'll tell you a secret. I also killed Daddy.” He leaned back in his chair and tilted his head, his body jerked up and down. “You should have seen his face at that moment.”

The professor waited for him to finish talking before questioning him. “I'm going to ask you one last question,” he said calmly.

“One last question ? Too bad. I like you. You won't come to see me anymore ?”

“You can't kill anymore,” Wellick continued without answering. “If a killer is no longer capable of killing, does he still have a reason to exist ?”

Plaskitt stood still in his chair and slowly a smile stretched his lips, uncovering his yellow teeth, until he burst into a maniacal laugh. Harry noted with a shudder that although the man was laughing, his eyes seemed devoid of emotion.

Wellick ended the interview, got up and picked up his papers and put them in his bag. The Aurors saw the yellow pencil that the criminal had used to commit suicide slip out of the bag and fall to the ground. The professor didn't seem to notice it, but Plaskitt had seen it and, with a quick gesture, he put his foot on it, making it disappear.

The investigation ended at the same time as the week. Harry's colleagues invited him to their weekly outing to the pub to celebrate the start of the weekend. He was not surprised to find that the Lieutenant had already left without saying a word, suspecting that he was not the type to attend a team dinner.

After a few minutes' walk along Diagon Alley, they had decided on a small, warm and lively establishment, from which cheerful music was playing. Harry watched his three team-mates chatting happily while drinking, the alcohol clearly starting to go to their heads a little if he had to judge by the volume of their voices.

Rose had gone on to describe the apprehension of their suspect earlier in the week, adding to her story with broad gestures that more than once failed to get her off her stool. Moments later, the young Auror was surprised to see Liam, who had seemed so reserved, start serving them glasses of FireWhisky.

“Come on, bottoms up,” he said to his colleagues in a staggering voice on the fourth service.

They all drank in the same gesture before putting their glasses back down noisily. Rose dropped her head on the table, her forehead against the wooden surface, moaning “I can't take it anymore, I'm done”. Liam, for his part, seemed captivated by the music group playing a catchy tune in the main room, clapping his hand on the table in a totally wrong rhythm. Not to be outdone, Jack, the Chief, who was just as affected by alcohol as his younger colleagues, put an arm around Harry's shoulders and leaned over to him.

“You- You know you remind me of me bossh ?” he said, his glass dangerously tilted in his hand. “When I wass jus’ a trainee he called me- Kiddo he called me. You talk like him, you make the same gestures. All the same. Save your face.”

He chatted like that for a few minutes before putting his head on the table from where he continued to mumble incomprehensible words.

“Tsk. Look at you. I think you've had a bit too much to drink, Kiddo,” Harry whispered with a smile.

He still found it hard to believe that the young trainee he had taken under his wing was now head of the Violent Crimes Section. He was both proud and sad at the same time ; sad that he hadn't been there to accompany him, that he had missed so many important moments in his friends' lives, that he hadn't seen their families grow along with his own.

He finished his drink, got up and put on his jacket. He made sure that the three friends were still conscious enough to go home by themselves, and then headed for the exit. Once outside, he tightened the collar of his garment and decided to walk a little in the quiet street under the October night sky. He didn't yet know how he was going to get back to his time, nor what the reason for his coming here was, but he could sense that he would soon get answers ; and his instincts were rarely wrong.


	5. -5-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't stop listening to "My little Dark Age" by MGMT while writing this story, as well as 80's music playlist on Spotify. I am now up to chapter 10 and chapter 11 is already planned !  
> Don't be shy and tell me your theories, I'd love to hear about them ! (My beta has one and as far as chapter 9, she's still sticking with it ! ◑.◑ )

Clearly, his instincts could be wrong.

Several weeks went by without anything happening and Harry found himself trapped in the Department's routine, investigating various petty cases. The days followed one another and were similar, without him learning any more about the reason for his time travel. Henry Cooper also remained a mystery, as the young man never manifested himself to the Aurors or the Ministry, much to his dismay.

He now felt well integrated into the small team of the Violent Crimes Section and particularly enjoyed Rose's company, which reminded him of his two best friends and sometimes made him forget his time sickness. Was this how he could describe how he felt ? Like homesickness, but instead of being in a foreign country, he was in a different time.

So here he was, brooding over his thoughts, sitting at his desk on a quiet November morning. The shy sunbeams were shining on his desk and he moved into the light the small pot containing the green plant he had brought from his flat.

“How is Kevin doing today ?” Rose's cheerful voice asked as she sat down at the table in front of him with a cup of tea in her hand.

“Good, it's sunny,” the young Auror replied.

“Seriously ?” intervened the Lieutenant next to him. “You called your plant "Kevin" ?”

“It's a name like any other,” Harry said, shrugging his shoulders.

His partner watched Kevin for a few seconds, following his little dance with his eyes, before turning his attention back to his files.

“It's funny,” Liam commented. “What kind of plant is it ?”

“I don't know,” Harry answered.

“If you want I can find out for you,” Rose suggested. “One of my father's friends is a professor of botany at Hogwarts. I can send him a picture to show him.”

The young man wondered where she hid her camera, when the young woman approached his desk and took out her little rectangular mirror. She placed it in front of the plant and pressed down on the surface before turning it towards Harry.

“And there it is ! A beautiful picture of Kevin !”

“Is the picture in there ?” he asked in amazement. “How can it be ? Isn't that a mirror ?”

“What are you talking about ? That's my phone.”

“This ? A phone ?”

“Do you live under a rock or something ? You really didn't know what it was ?”

She passed it to him and showed him how to operate it.

“The Muggles invented this, but it's so practical that we stole the idea from them ! No more need to be next to a fireplace to be able to call each other ! And animal protection associations have campaigned hard for their use to replace owls. Of course, our phones are enchanted to withstand the magic and be more solid.”

They received a new case a few days later. In the magical part of the forest of the Norfolk Broads National Park, located near the capital, a body had been discovered.

“Well, more like a body’s part,” the Auror who greeted them at the scene of the crime said. “A leg to be exact. A hiker walking his Croup warned us, it was the animal that dug up the limb.”

They approached the place where the leg had been found, their footsteps dampened by the thin layer of snow that had fallen in the night. The previous weeks had been particularly cold for the season and winter seemed to have arrived early.

The investigators stopped in front of a shallow hole where a black plastic bag was found with a white, almost blue foot sticking out of it. The forensic team was busy around it, casting spells to preserve the crime scene.

As he watched the officers work, sitting on a lying trunk, Harry was lost in thought. Rose's voice brought him back to the present moment.

“We have to identify the victim first,” she said, crouching near the leg. “Any idea where the rest of the body might be ?”

A little aside, the Lieutenant took out his wand and made several balls of light appear, like patronuses without body shape.

“Extend the search area off the paths. Pay attention to any sign of black plastic bags,” he said before sending them in different directions.

“I hate it when it’s just body parts,” Liam said, his complexion slightly greenish. “This is my third time since I've been in the Section.”

“What about you, Rookie ? How are you doing ?” Rose asked as she approached Harry. “It's your first time, isn't it ?”

_Tsk. As if._

“Yes, it is. First time. I envy your experience,” he replied between his clenched teeth.

“Looks like the murderer got rid of it like a piece of rubbish,” Liam commented, as he walked around the hole. “By the smell, I'd say it's been there for over twenty days. The cold kept it from decay.”

“But it's strange," Rose said, frowning. “Why didn’t they just make it disappear ? Or turn it into something else. It's as if they wanted to keep it intact or wanted it to be found.”

“For what purpose ? To make us look for every piece of the body like in a treasure hunt ?” Liam tried, a note of horror in his voice.

The Chief walked past them, back after making sure that everything went smoothly with the other teams.

“Give me a report when you've identified the victim,” he told the forensic officers as he began to walk away.

Rose and Liam followed him and Harry began to walk after them before a detail caught his attention.

“Wait a minute !”

Under the curious gaze of his colleagues, he rushed into the hole, jostling an Auror in his path, and crouched down by the leg. He grabbed it and turned it slightly.

“What are you doing ?!” the Lieutenant exclaimed. “At least put on a protective spell, you're going to put your fingerprints everywhere !”

“Oh, get lost, you-”

Harry paused, running his finger over the icy skin of the body part. It was what he had seen. Five little dots of ink tattooed on the heel.

“What's that doing there ? How is it possible if the leg has only been there for about twenty days ?” He stood up slowly, his gaze towards the horizon, thinking at full speed. “That's it. That's why the body was never found. The victim had survived.”

The Lieutenant stared at him cautiously before shaking his head and walking away.

“That must be why I'm here. For this case. It can't be a coincidence !” He climbed out of the hole and started walking. “If I solve this case, I could probably get back home.”

Harry walked through the door of St Mungo’s forensic service with the Lieutenant at his side.

“I'm telling you, there was a case like this years ago !” he was telling him. “You saw for yourself. Dots on the heel ! There was a crazy killer who left dots on his victims in the 80s. I've just realised that there may have been a survivor. The owner of that leg had survived !”

“What are you talking about ?” his partner asked, stopping to turn to face him, an exasperated expression on his face.

“I'm telling you that I think I can identify the victim. What are you going to do if you don't find the rest of the body, how are you going to identify her, eh ? The commonalities between all the victi-”

“We are going to use the Department's database of missing persons,” the Lieutenant abruptly interrupted. “And compare the information with a DNA detection spell we'll have cast on the leg.”

Harry grimaced, the meaning of the words spoken by his colleague completely escaping him. “DN...A ? What's that ?”

The Lieutenant stared at him for a few moments and then shook his head with a sigh and then walked away, mumbling “what an idiot”.

“Hey ! I heard that !” Harry pointed at him and then tightened his fist. “Tsk, he's going to drive me crazy !”

The leg was placed on a blue sterile sheet lit by the bright light of the scialytic in the middle of the autopsy room.

“It was cut off twenty-five days ago,” Dr. Adler explained. “The decomposition was slowed down by the cold temperature. If we look at the patella, tibia and fibula, we can conclude that the victim was between one metre sixty-five and one metre seventy. The foot size was 38. She was female.”

“Ah !” Harry exclaimed, turning to his partner. “I told you it was a woman !”

“Ah, do shut up,” the latter replied with a wave of his hand. “We're going to check the list of people who've been missing for a month,” he said, before bending over to inspect the severed member more closely. “By the way, how was it cut ?”

“It's clean, isn't it ?” the coroner replied. “It's a place where the bone is very strong and therefore difficult to amputate. The killer used a fairly powerful cutting spell. A simple _Diffindo_ would have left marks on the bones.”

The two Aurors looked up at him attentively.

“The work had to be done by someone experienced who is used to using such spells.”

“It might help us narrow down the list of suspects, if we can find out which professions require knowledge of these spells.”

Harry whistled between his teeth while thinking, which caught the attention of the doctor who looked at him with an interrogating look on his face.

“Is it really possible to identify the victim only from his leg ? It's a lie, isn't it ?”

“Shut up,” the Lieutenant said with irritation.

The doctor laughed as he watched them. “Usually with unidentified bodies, fingerprints, teeth and DNA are checked, in that order. In this case we'll use the last one. As you said,” he added, turning to the Lieutenant, “by comparing with the list of missing persons, we will find the victim.”

“You were telling the truth then,” Harry said pensively. “Dr. Lehmann's talents can't compare to that. What about these marks ?” he asked, pointing to the heel. “They're thirty years old, aren't they ?”

“Ignore him, Doctor.”

“I'm not sure. We'd have to take a sample of them and cast an analysis spell, but they look old enough as it is to the naked eye. Why do you ask ? Do you know anything about it ?”

“It's nothing. Call us if you have any news,” the Lieutenant interrupted before turning his heels and walking away.

“It's just-”

“Hey,” his colleague called. “Let's go.”

“Tsk. What a jerk.” Harry sighed before following him under the amused gaze of the coroner.

The whole team of the Violent Crime Section had been assigned to the investigation. While some of them were in the field, others remained in the Department, searching for the identity of the victim.

Harry approached the Lieutenant by rolling up his chair, nearly running into him.

“Hey,” he said. “I know it's important to look at the missing persons list, but we should focus on the suspects. I know it sounds strange, but I clearly saw-”

“I didn't see anything at all. And you should speak to me with a little more respect, I am your elder.”

 _Tsk_ . _Of course you didn't see anything_ , Harry thought, _you weren't even born in 1986, you wouldn't have noticed that detail_. He rolled back to his own desk.

Rose and Liam came in and sat down in front of them after taking off their cloaks.

“Did you find anything ?” Harry asked them.

“Nothing,” Rose replied, dejected. “It's such a wide area. There are a few shops not far from the main entrance of the park, but nobody saw anything. We did get the memories of some of the wizards who were in the area twenty-five days ago.”

“Without identifying the victim, it's going to be hard to know what we're looking for,” Liam said, leaning back in his chair. “Are we even sure it's a witch ? It could just as well be a Muggle, in which case she won't appear on our missing persons list…”

“Oh no, she's a witch,” Harry intervened.

“What ?” the blonde-haired investigator asked, looking at him curiously.

“It's like the previous victims,” the young Auror continued, thinking aloud. “They were all witches. They were between twenty and twenty-five years old, and it's been thirty years, so she should be between fifty and fifty-five years old. She must have stayed in London when she was in her twenties, she may have had connections in the area, but she left the city for a long time. I'm sure she did.”

Her colleagues listened to him doubtfully, as did the Lieutenant, who had interrupted his reading of the list of missing persons.

“She must have returned recently, I am sure of that too.”

“What are you talking about ?” Rose asked, perplexed before turning to Harry's partner. “Hey, Lieutenant, did you find a lead while we were outside ?”

He dropped his papers on his desk and turned to face the young Auror. “Did you find all this from one leg ?” he asked him, sceptical. “If you're so smart, why don’t you go and arrest the culprit too ?”

“That's something…” Harry began, before ending in a whisper. “Which I'm still working on.”

“You've watched too many muggle shows, Rookie !” Rose laughed. “What an imagination !”

“Tsk. I'm telling you the truth ! Women were killed in 1986 ! She's connected to those events !”

His colleagues, now accustomed to his outbursts, ignored him and went back to work.

Later in the day, the Chief brought them all together to review the progress of the investigation. In front of a large translucent board, the Lieutenant gave them a summary of the situation.

“Here is where we are now. At the scene of the incident, we found no documents, accessories or clothing that could have shed any light on the identity of the victim. We have also not found the rest of the body. The quickest way to identify her is to look for women over twenty years old who have disappeared in the area. We will have to go through the list.”

He paused to tap the board with his wand. Several dozen female faces appeared with, next to each one, annotations about the circumstances of their disappearance.

“Woah,” Liam whispered, impressed. “When did you have time to organize this ?”

“It's always the annoying ones who are good at this sort of thing,” Rose commented quietly.

“What a waste of time,” said Harry in turn.

“That's enough, shut up,” the Chief said before nodding to the Lieutenant. “Go on.”

“Forensics are comparing the DNA from the leg with that of these women.”

“Probably not all of them have registered their DNA with the Ministry,” their superior intervened.” This is only a recent recommendation.”

“I have already obtained DNA samples from the families. By tomorrow, we should be able to have the results.”

Harry stood up and approached the board, while Liam spoke. “What if the victim isn't from around here ?”

“That's just a first step,” the Lieutenant replied. “If we don't get conclusive results, then we'll expand our search across the country.”

He turned around, in time to see Harry waving his wand to remove some of the faces from the board.

“Hey !”

“She's not twenty, nor is she thirty,” the young Auror replied without looking at him. “She must have been in London when she was young, so it's not her. Nor that one.”

Behind him, the Chief watched him, frowning.

“Look at that ! The Rookie thinks he's a real detective,” Rose laughed, shaking her head.

Focused on his task, Harry didn't immediately notice that his colleagues were all gone and left him alone in front of the board.

“Why doesn't anyone listen to me ?!” he shouted into the now empty space. “I really have to solve this investigation if I want to get home !”

“What do you mean, “there is no match” ?!” the Lieutenant exclaimed, standing in the coroner's office.

“We tried every spell we could, increasing our amplitude, without success. We couldn't find a match,” Dr. Adler apologized.

“What about family members ?”

“None. Either the victim had none, or she was a stranger. In which case it would be almost impossible to identify her.”

Back at the Department, the Aurors felt discouraged and saw their hope of solving the case dwindling with the lack of clues.

“If only we could just identify the victim,” Liam sighed gloomily. “We could finally finish this investigation. What are we going to do now ?”

“We're going to start by finding out about missing persons who lived alone or were not reported.”

“And how are we going to find them if they haven't been reported, Lieutenant Genius ?” Rose asked. “I just want to go home,” she sighed, raising her face to the ceiling.

The Chief suddenly burst into the room, his face preoccupied.

“What are you all doing sitting there ? Rose, Liam, go to the scene of the incident, see if you can find anything,” he ordered before turning to Harry and his partner. “You two, keep looking for the missing women, put up posters on Diagon Alley if you have to !”

The two Aurors first inquired at the Department of Job Regulation to find out if they had received any reports of workers who had inexplicably failed to show up for work the previous month. They then went to the Leaky Cauldron to put up posters. They asked anyone with knowledge of a woman who had been missing for twenty-five days to go to the Aurors Department to help them with an investigation.

“Why aren't the dots on the heel mentioned ?” Harry asked angrily as he read the poster. “How do you expect to identify her if you don't mention this detail ?”

The Lieutenant ignored him and instead of answering him, gave him a pile of paper.

“Here you are. Call these people instead of wasting your breath unnecessarily,” he said before turning his heels.

“Hey, hey wait !” Harry called out to him, pulling his colleague's sleeve.

“What now ?”

“I don't have that,” the young Auror explained, pointing to the phone his partner was holding in his hand.

The Lieutenant closed his eyes and sighed long and hard before muttering “What have you got then ?”. He tore the pile of papers from his hands and walked towards the exit of the pub.

“I've got this to give you !” Harry muttered with a vulgar gesture on his partner's back.

“Excuse me,” a voice behind him said, startling him.

He turned and had to look down to see the little middle-aged woman who had caught his attention, holding one of the posters in her hands.

“I work in a small hotel on Diagon Alley,” she explained, sitting opposite him at one of the tables in the pub. “One of the employees has been missing for almost a month, and I find myself working overtime because of it.”

“No one has reported her missing ?”

“The manager did, but no one else seems to be worried. She was always alone. We didn't think anything of it at first, but when I see your poster I can't help but wonder if something might have happened to her.”

“What's her name ?” Harry asked, taking notes in a small notebook.

“Sophie Lloyd.”

“Did she have dots drawn on her heel ?”

“I don't know, I never paid attention to that.”

“When did she stop working ?”

“About a month ago. She had a small room in the hotel. All her things are still there.”

Harry went there and visited the small, old-fashioned room, which was a bit of a mess. He ran his finger over the dusty edge of the chest of drawers and inspected the space carefully. On the dressing table by the window he found a photograph dated June 1986. A young girl, probably Sophie Lloyd, and a friend of hers were standing outside Buckingham Palace, laughing and looking shyly at Harry.

The young Auror pocketed the photograph and then grabbed one of the jars of face cream from the small cabinet to pass it on to the forensic team. He stayed in the room for a few more minutes, thinking aloud.

“If she indeed survived after her encounter with the killer thirty years ago, she had no choice but to flee for fear that he might find her.” He stopped in front of the window and observed the busy street below. “What does a person who seeks to live in hiding do ? Consume polyjuice for the rest of their life ? This is not the simplest solution.” His face suddenly lit up. “She must have changed her name between 1986 and today ! Which may explain why her family is not worried about her disappearance ! Her DNA must never have been registered at the Ministry…”

There was a calm atmosphere mixed with a feeling of apprehension in the office that afternoon. The team members were all sitting at their posts, each one busy with his or her task when a bright red note flew over their heads and landed on the Chief's desk.

Under the watchful eyes of his subordinates, he unfolded the paper and read it silently before raising his eyes.

“It's a match.”

“Ha ! I told you so !" Harry exclaimed, rising abruptly from his seat.

“How can you do that, Henry ?” Liam asked with awe. “You've only got a few years experience, and then again, not even in homicide !”

“Everything he said is correct,” Rose added, going through the missing woman's file. “Sophie Lloyd, fifty-one years old, lived in London until 1986 …”

The Lieutenant shot Harry a dark glance, which the young man returned with a provocative gesture.

“... She returned to London a year ago. How did you know that ?” she asked, raising her head.

“Did he talk about that too ?” the Chief intervened.

“You know, in 1986-” Harry started before he stopped. “What I mean is, I followed my detective intuition.”

His superior stared at him without saying anything, frowning.

“Then, the story of the dots might be true too,” Liam said.

“What ?” the Chief asked abruptly.

“Nothing serious. The victim had a tattoo on her heel,” the blonde-haired Auror replied, while grabbing a photo from his desk. “You can't see it very well though.”

He handed the picture to his superior who looked at it with a serious look on his face.

“Have you ever seen this before, Chief ?”

He stared intently at the photo before looking up and scrutinizing Harry with a piercing look. The young Auror slid down into his chair and turned his attention to his little plant, suddenly captivated by it.

Jack Sloper slowly approached him and placed the picture in front of his young recruit's face.

“How did you identify the victim ?” he asked with urgency in his voice.

“Huh ?” the Auror replied eloquently.

“How did you know about the tattoos ? Have you ever seen that before ?”

“Ah... I heard about it somewhere.”

“Heard about it ? Where did you hear about it ? Very few people know about it. The investigation files disappeared in a fire. Only those who investigated the case know the details.”

“Ah... It's…”

“He was talking nonsense and got it right just by sheer luck,” the Lieutenant cut off before getting up and heading for the exit, waving at Harry to follow him.

“I'm coming !” the latter said hastily as he pulled himself out of his chair.

His superior grabbed him by the arm before he could take a step.

“Who are you ?” he blurted, his eyes gazing frantically into the young man's face. “Who are you really ?”

Liam and Rose watched the scene with an air of incomprehension painted on their faces.

“Are you coming ?!” the Lieutenant called, already at the other end of the room.

Harry hurried to him and this time nobody stopped him.


	6. -6-

As they walked through the corridors of the Ministry, Harry was thinking. Had Jack figured out who was behind Henry Cooper's face ? He had already noticed the similarities with Harry's character, as he had told him on their first evening in the pub. What would happen if Harry told him the truth ? Would he even believe it ? He turned to his partner who walked silently beside him.

“You see, I was right,” he said.

“So what ?” the Lieutenant replied, staring straight ahead.

 _He’s so arrogant_ , Harry thought angrily.

“I'm just saying that you should have a little more faith in me. How can you be a good Auror if you don't have a little faith in your colleagues ?”

His partner turned his head and looked at him with disdain, but didn't answer. At the bend in the corridor, they almost collided with a wizard who was briskly walking in the opposite direction.

“Professor Wellick ?” exclaimed Harry with surprise. “What brings you here ?”

“Oh, I've come to visit my aunt,” he replied as he readjusted his cloak. “She works at the Ministry, I drop in when I have time.”

The professor occasionally intervened as a consultant on certain investigations, so he didn't seem surprised when the Lieutenant asked him to take a look at the case at hand.

The three men settled down in the Ministry's cafeteria, on a table a little apart from the others. The large, enchanted window offered a splendid view of snow-covered mountain peaks, making them forget for a moment that they were underground. The professor went through the file carefully, before giving them his opinion.

“It doesn't look like premeditated murder,” he began. “And the leg wasn't buried deep, so there was a chance it could be found by a wild animal or a walker.”

“Could it be a serial killer ?” the Lieutenant asked.

“I don't think so, it doesn't look like that kind of crime.”

“Brudos cut up his victims as well.”

“Brudos ?” Harry intervened with curiosity.

“Jerry Brudos,” Wellick replied calmly. “An American Muggle serial killer. He did cut up the women he killed, but only to preserve the pieces and use them as a paperweight or for sexual pleasure.”

“Oh Merlin,” the young Auror murmured, who almost regretted asking the question.

“In this case, the killer treated her like rubbish, throwing the body parts into a plastic bag. The culprit's feelings are shown in the way he disposed of the body. He had a personal grudge against the victim, he wanted to insult her even after she was dead. Cutting her to pieces is only one way of making her more difficult to identify.” He paused briefly before looking up at the two Aurors. “I think this is a crime of passion,” he concluded.

Despite his cold and detached look, Harry liked the professor, and he could see that his partner did too. No doubt his intervention would help them solve the investigation. The young man, however, could not understand why anyone would take such an interest in serial killers ; just what he had read and learned about them so far gave him goosebumps.

There were days, Harry thought, when it would have been better to stay in bed. In the break room, he was swearing after the elf in charge of supplying them with coffee who, for some mysterious reason, refused to give the young Auror exactly what he asked for. He stood in front of the table covered with cups of various beverages, none of which was coffee, and he would insult the creature profusely, ready to come to blows when he felt he was being watched.

“So much anger in such a small body,” Rose commented, standing against the door frame, arms folded and looking amused, with Liam at her side.

“I'm not that small,” Harry grumbled.

“Oh, Rookie, denial is a river in Egypt. You _are_ small.”

It wasn't his fault that this body was smaller than average.

“It's not my fault that you're all giants !” he said instead.

“You should avoid coffee, it's not good for your blood pressure,” the young woman continued, ignoring his remark.

“You have to admit that you're a bit angry sometimes, Henry,” Liam intervened with a serious air. “There are therapies for anger management, you know. You should ask around.”

“I'm not angry !”

“You rant a lot.”

“I'm not ranting, I'm expressing myself !” he replied, pointing his finger at them.

“Aw, so cute,” Rose whispered with a smile.

“I'm. Not. Cute !”

At that moment, the Lieutenant entered the break room, impeccably dressed as usual, walked to the counter and asked the elf for coffee, who immediately complied, making a cup appear with a snap of his fingers.

“You look tense, Henry,” the Lieutenant said condescendingly, turning to him.

When he uttered the words, “Have you ever thought about yoga ?” Harry could no longer account for his physically violent reaction.

A few hours later, under heavy rain, the Aurors went to Diagon Alley to question the owners of the shops surrounding the hotel. They asked them if they had noticed anything suspicious or if they could tell them more about the victim's habits. The manager of a small restaurant across the street from the hotel remembered Sophie Lloyd well.

“She was a reserved and quiet woman, very diligent in what she did,” she told them as she prepared her customers' food on the counter. “Even her boss, who is a real dragon, complimented her on her work.”

“Do you know if she had any family ?” Harry asked, trying to grab a chip from one of the plates before the woman slapped his hand.

“I had asked her about a ring she was wearing on her finger, one of my customers who works in the magical furniture workshop had asked me to introduce them. He had his eye on her. She told me she was divorced.”

She stopped to send the dishes with a fluid wand movement to the table where her two clients were.

“When I asked her why she had kept the wedding ring she just laughed but never answered me. I guess she was still attached to it.”

Their next destination was the workshop of the man the cook had told them about. It was a small shed, above which hung a sign: _Ripley, Charming Woodwork_. They found the owner at the back, sitting on a stool, drawing a sketch of a beautiful chest of drawers. He was a man in his fifties, with a round, jovial face and slightly overweight. With his hands in his pockets, he answered all their questions without flinching.

“She was a modest woman. She and I were in the same situation, you know ? I figured we were a pair.”

“And ?” the Lieutenant asked.

“She replied that she didn't have the time or a stable enough situation for a relationship. I found out later that she was in fact already seeing someone.”

“How did you find out ? Did you see him ?”

“Of course I saw him. One night when I came home late from work, after eating at a restaurant, I saw her talking to a man in front of the hotel across the street.”

“Did you see his face ?” Harry intervened.

“No. Only his back. But there was something strange. He called her Claire and not Sophie.”

“Really ? the young Auror blurted, tilting his head to the side. 

“Yes, it struck me. I wondered why he called her that.”

The Lieutenant approached the large translucent board and placed one of the vials containing the witnesses' memories, together with those of Mr Ripley, in a notch in the side. They had sorted out only those from the evening of the victim's disappearance and the images appeared on the surface of the board, as sharp as if they had dived into a pensieve. By sliding them side by side with his wand, the Lieutenant gave them an almost global view of Diagon Alley that evening.

They could see Sophie Lloyd standing in front of the hotel, visibly waiting for someone, then chatting with a man whose face was hidden under a wide-brimmed hat. In one of the other memories, she was walking down the street beside the same man, who reappeared a little later, alone. However, to the great frustration of the investigators, his face was never visible enough to be identified.

“It is clear that this is someone she knew,” the Lieutenant commented.

“She lived a solitary life. Her parents died when she was young and she had no siblings,” Rose said, looking through her file. “She was born Claire Tenenbaum and became Sophie Lloyd in 1986.”

“Poor woman,” Harry whispered. “Why didn't she report anything back then ?”

His superior gave him a suspicious glance without comment.

“Why change her name and live in a hotel like that ?” Liam asked curiously. “It's not as if she was in debt. Could it be a murder without a motive ?”

“No,” the Lieutenant intervened. “If it was, the killer wouldn't have chopped her to pieces. As Professor Wellick said, the culprit probably held a strong grudge against her.”

“People kill for no reason nowadays,” the blond-haired Auror countered.

“They knew each other,” the Lieutenant said. “She changed her name in 1986, however this man called her Claire. She lived for thirty years as Sophie Lloyd, few people knew her real name. Either they were really close or he knew her from before.”

“Surely her ex-husband could have some answers,” Harry said, as a conclusion to their meeting.

Harry and the Lieutenant went together to the workplace of Sophie Lloyd's ex-husband, Alf Tramontin. He worked in a cauldron factory in a remote industrial area, but the two Aurors reached a dead end when the boss told them that the man had resigned a month earlier.

They then apparated to the street where Tramontin's last known address was located and appeared in front of a suburban building before finding his flat completely empty. As they stood in front of the open door of the flat, the Lieutenant called Rose, who had remained at the office, the tone of his voice betraying his frustration.

“I need you to track down Alf Tramontin's magical signature. Also try to locate his phone, if he has one.”

“Is it possible to do that ?” Harry asked with big eyes.

“Seriously,” the Lieutenant sighed after hanging up. “Where the hell did you come from ?”

The young Auror's answer was interrupted by the arrival of the owner of the flat, a middle-aged witch dressed in a particularly colourful floral pattern dress.

“Oh, the lovely couple !” she exclaimed, adjusting her thick glasses. “Are you here for the visit ?”

Harry nearly choked as the Lieutenant's cheeks turned peony red.

“Ah, no ma'am,” the Lieutenant said , taking his Auror badge out of his pocket. “We are looking for the tenant of this lodging. We have a few questions to ask him.”

“Oh,” she replied in a slightly disappointed tone. “He moved out a few days ago. I saw him again this morning when he came to say goodbye. He was dressed so elegantly. He looked like he was about to leave far away.”

The Lieutenant's phone suddenly started vibrating and he picked it up.

“It was Rose, they have located Tramontin,” he quickly informed Harry after putting the device in his pocket.

They immediately apparated to the address the young woman had given them and appeared on a bridge. Slightly disoriented, Harry turned his head just in time to see a man climbing the parapet through the curtain of rain and fog. He rushed towards him before his partner even knew what was happening. The man put one leg over the railing and Harry accelerated, swearing. The young Auror grabbed him by the waist as he was about to put his second leg over the ledge and accompanied him as he fell onto the wet asphalt.

Still out of breath from his frantic run and soaked by the rain, he confirmed the identity of their suspect, before the Lieutenant joined him and they took him to the Department to interrogate him.

“Sophie is dead ?!” Tramontin exclaimed, sitting in front of the two Aurors, his elegant dark clothes were wrinkled and his hair in a mess.

“Don't try to act,” Harry scolded.

“What the hell are you talking about ? Why would she be dead ? Is that why I couldn't get in touch with her ? I called her this morning, even though I was going to die I wanted to at least say goodbye.”

“You call her Sophie. Have you ever heard the name Claire Tenenbaum ?” the Lieutenant asked.

“Who is that ?” Tramontin replied with a perplexed look.

“I'm telling you, he's playing us,” Harry grumbled.

“Why did you resign ? The date coincides exactly with Sophie Lloyd's disappearance,” his partner continued, ignoring him.

The suspect held out his hands, still handcuffed and shaking. “Look at my hands,” he said, revealing his severed fingers on the right hand. “I tried to stay as long as I could, but I couldn't work properly anymore. We use cutting spells and I hurt myself far too many times.”

Harry leaned over the table and grabbed the man by the edges of his jacket. “That's enough,” he harshly said. “Tell us the truth now. You have no alibi for the night of the murder.”

“I was going to kill myself !” the man cried out desperately. “Why would I kill her ?!”

“Maybe you killed her because you didn't want to die alone !” the young Auror replied.

“I told you it wasn't me ! Oh Merlin !” Tramontin Sobbed.

While they left their suspect waiting in the interrogation room, Harry and the Lieutenant once again studied the memories where the victim and the man could be seen walking side by side in the street. They watched it over and over again, replaying the moment when they were being pushed around by a man who was rushing past them on a broom.

“Look at his left hand,” Harry said suddenly, pointing to the board. “It looks like he's hiding something in his pocket.”

“Like what ?” the Lieutenant asked, leaning over to get a better look. “You're thinking of a weapon ? Maybe he was threatening her as they walked.”

“If that was the case, it would be in his other pocket, on Lloyd's side. No, he's hiding something else. What would he want to hide like that ?”

“I don't know. I don't know what he's hiding. What would a man want to hide from a woman ? A flaw, a handicap perhaps ?”

They turned their heads simultaneously and looked at each other, their features lighting up similarly.

“It can't be Tramontin,” Harry said hastily, “ he’s hiding his left hand and not his right one.”

He remembered Ripley's questioning in his workshop. Of his cheerful face and the hands that had remained in his pockets throughout their interview. The Lieutenant was obviously thinking the same thing.

“He told us that the man had called her Claire,” he began.

“Claire Tenenbaum, yes.”

“Our only witness, really. What if he's lying to us ?”

“Whoever knows the real name is the guilty one. Wait a minute. What if he knew her from before ?”

Harry got up and rushed to his desk to go through Ripley's file.

“There! He lived in the same neighbourhood as Sophie Lloyd in 1986 !” he exclaimed.

He nodded to the Lieutenant and they hurriedly left the Department together to go to the Atrium and disapparate.

They immediately reappeared in front of Ripley's workshop and rushed in through the door, which was still open despite the late hour. The smell of tobacco was still fresh, and they nodded their heads before taking out their wands and stepping into the shed in muffled steps.

Suddenly they heard a noise towards the back of the room and rushed silently towards its source. They found the man in the small backyard with a cigarette between his lips, standing under a canopy, protected from the rain that was still falling.

At the sight of him, Harry couldn't control his rage and threw himself on him with his fist raised. His knuckles made painful contact with the suspect's jaw and the latter was thrown to the ground.

“You piece of shit ! How could you do this to a human being ?” he shouted in rage.

“It wasn't me !” Ripley cried, protecting his face. “I didn't do it !”

When the rest of the team arrived on the spot later in the evening, around ten Aurors were already looking for clues. The Chief walked towards Harry and the Lieutenant before seeing the suspect sitting on a stool in the distance.

“What's wrong with his face ?” Jack asked as he watched Ripley.

“Henry roughed him up a bit,” Liam replied, mimicking punches.

The Chief turned to the young Auror with an angry expression.

“That's unacceptable !” he yelled, before turning to Liam, pretending to kick him. “You ! You should have stopped him !”

“Hey ! But I wasn't even there!” he replied, backing away.

Suddenly a shout rang out in the backyard, “Over here !”

“They've found something !” Rose said, appearing in the doorway.

The bag containing Sophie Lloyd's bloody clothes was enough evidence to make Ripley the prime suspect in the murder. In the Department's small grey interview room, Harry and his partner questioned him.

“Mr Ripley,” the Lieutenant began. “You have been divorced twice. You live alone. You happened to live in the same neighbourhood as the victim in 1986. You must have known her by her real name.”

“You're the one who called her Claire, correct ?” Harry continued. “There has never been another man. It was you in front of the hotel with her that night.”

“N-no, that's not true ! I was on my way home after eating at the restaurant.”

“And you say that's when you saw a strange man talking to Claire ?” the Lieutenant asked.

“Yes !” the suspect answered, nodding his head frantically.

“There's no way you could have heard him,” the older of the two Aurors said. “I went to the restaurant. Even if there had been another man, he was too far from the hotel to be able to hear the conversations. Why did you lie ? What are you trying to hide ? By any chance, something in your pocket ?”

The man didn't answer, looking at his left hand, still hidden in his jacket.

“After all, what kind of woman would love a man with such a hand ?” the Lieutenant asked rhetorically, drawing his attention to his papers.

“What do you know about it,” the suspect said, suddenly furious.

The Lieutenant slowly looked up at him and leaned back into his chair. “She rejected your advances, didn't she ?”

Without answering, the man took his left hand out of his pocket and put his arm on the table, revealing a prosthesis. “She called me a crippled idiot,” he said in a voice oozing with rage. “She didn't have to say that. Just because my hand is like that.”

“I'm sure that's what you told her while controlling your anger, hm ? "Let's talk about this over a very last drink" ? What did she say to that ? "No" ?”

“I told her that if she didn't agree, I would come and find her every night in front of the hotel. She let herself be persuaded.”

“There was never a last drink. You dragged her to a secluded alley where you killed her. Maybe you used a rope to strangle her.” The Lieutenant got up and stood next to the man. He put his hand on her shoulder and leaned towards him. “You continued to pull on the rope with all your might until she couldn't breathe,” he continued, his voice dropping in a low tone.

The man slowly turned his head towards him and whispered “you're wrong.”

“What are you playing at,” Harry intervened abruptly. “You not only killed her, you cut her to pieces, you scum ! Claire Tenenbaum had barely survived thirty years ago.”

The man widened his eyes, which gave him a hallucinated expression. “I didn't use a rope. I beat her before smothering her with my hand,” he said in a hoarse voice before starting to laugh. “I killed her with this hand !”

His laughter became hysterical and echoed through the small room.

“You maniac. Son of a b- !” Harry exploded before controlling himself.

The investigation was finally concluded and the murderer would spend the rest of his days behind bars. Sitting at his desk, tired but relieved, Harry let his gaze wander over the room. The evening was already well underway and most of the Aurors had gone home for the night.

“I'm finally going to be able to go home, too,” he whispered before getting up and putting on his jacket.

As he walked towards the exit of the department, he saw Rose and Liam in the break room, immersed in the conversation over a frugal meal. The young Auror smiled ; he had become attached to his two colleagues and would miss them. The Chief was nowhere in sight but he thought he would see him again soon enough. In the corridor, he came across the Lieutenant and stopped him by putting his hand on his shoulder.

“I wouldn't say it was a pleasure but I wanted to tell you that you are a good Auror,” he confided to him solemnly. “Who knows, maybe we could have become friends ?”

Harry let his arm drop and turned his heels, without waiting for his partner's reply, who watched him walk away with an air of complete confusion painted on his face.

He apparated into the small dark path leading to the tunnel and stopped in front of the entrance, a feeling of excitement in the pit of his stomach. It was the moment of truth.

He took a long breath and then walked down the long dark corridor, first slowly and then faster and faster, until he started to run. Each of his steps resonated against the damp stone floor, echoing between the dark walls. He ran towards the exit in the distance, illuminated by a white light. He ran to his life before, to his friends and to Ginny. He repeated the young woman's name tirelessly in a low voice.

“Ginny. Ginny. Wait for me, I'm coming.”

At last he reached the end of the tunnel, without slowing down, and closed his eyes as he crossed the exit. He waited a few seconds before gradually reopening them, slightly dazzled by the lamp post above him. A sob slipped from his lips when he saw his surroundings, unchanged, and he leaned forward.

“Why ? Why ?! Why !” he cried out in desperation before straightening up and turning around. “I just want to go home ! I just want to go home to 1986 ! I just want my life back ! I want Ginny back ! Is that too much to ask ?! Is it because I'm Harry bloody Potter that fate is fucking with me ?!”

A slight crackling sounded behind him and he turned around. In front of him, eyes wide open and his face stunned, was Jack Sloper.

“Ha- Harry ?” the latter whispered hesitantly. “Is it really you ?”


	7. -7-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi !  
> I'll try to keep a regular posting schedule and post every week end from now on !  
> This chapter and the next made me realise how hard it is to write an investigation ! ^^ I have a new found respect for Midsomer Murders scenarists ! (my parents are hardcore fans).  
> Anyway, I hope you'll like it ! Thanks for reading !  
> ヽ(⌒‐⌒)

The days were long and gruelling, and the hunt for the murderer seemed endless. The teenager was not their suspect despite his abnormal behaviour and after his early release, Jack could feel the frustration of his supervisor sitting next to him. The Department was unusually quiet and, caught up by fatigue, without realizing it, the young man dozed off on his desk.

He was awakened by the sound of the Department's front door suddenly opening. He was startled and turned his head, slightly disoriented, in search of the source of the ruckus. Ginny Weasley appeared, her face dark, visibly irritated.

“Where is he ?” she asked hastily. “Where's Harry ?”

“I don't know,” he replied as he stood up, running a hand over his face to chase away the last remnants of sleep. “He was there when I fell asleep.”

Williamson came out of the break room, attracted by the noise.

“Mrs. Potter ? What's going on ?”

“Harry hasn't come home. He promised me he'd be home on time tonight, so I came to get him and bring him back, by dragging him away if I have to !”

The old Auror glanced at the clock on the wall before frowning. “But he left here more than an hour ago.”

Jack shuddered, an uncomfortable feeling settling in the hollow of his belly.

“This fool must have got himself into trouble again,” mumbled his superior before gathering the members of his team still present.

Harry had told Williamson that he intended to arrest the murderer. They came to the conclusion that he must have gone to the scene of the last murder in the tunnel to look for clues that might have eluded them.

“Harry ! Harry !”

“Potter !”

Their calls echoed through the long dark corridor lit only by their wands and accompanied by the sound of drops crashing on the stone floor. Suddenly an Auror gasped loudly, squatted down and picked up something from the floor.

She handed the object to Williamson, who let out a trembling sigh. Apprehensively, Jack approached and saw that he had a wand in his hands. Harry's wand.

“What is it ?” Ginny asked as she sneaked between the Aurors.

She had insisted on going with them, saying she wanted to be the first to find him and give him a dressing-down. When the old Auror gave her the wand, her face turned pale and she slowly closed her fingers on the piece of wood.

“He can't be far away, if his wand is there,” she whispered. “He must be around here somewhere.”

“Chief !” an Auror called a few metres away.

They all rushed towards him. Jack first saw the big stone at his feet, one side of which was darker than the others. It took him a few seconds before he realised it was clotted blood and he looked up, looking down the rest of the corridor. Just next to it, mixed with the thin layer of water that covered the floor, there were other traces of blood.

“Harry, you idiot,” Williamson whispered, biting his lips and looking up at the sky, visibly trying to control his emotions.

Jack hadn't heard Ginny come to his side, but he could feel when the young woman dropped and he caught her in time before her knees hit the ground. Her body was filled with silent sobs and she was clutching Harry's wand in her hands, pressed to her chest.

“He had promised me, he had promised me,” she repeated in a low voice, her tears shining on her cheeks lit by the _Lumos_ of the Aurors gathered around her.

They searched the surroundings all night, joined in a hurry by Ron, who had been immediately warned. At dawn, the Aurors found themselves once again in front of the tunnel where their colleagues from the forensic medical service were waiting for them. They cast an _Appare Vestigium_ that disappeared after a few seconds, as it had done every time since the beginning of the case. A few seconds were enough, however, to see a vague silhouette standing astride another lying down, with its hands around its neck.

The investigators searched tirelessly for days that turned into weeks, then months, without finding the slightest lead. The newspapers made their headlines and the Wizarding World was moved by the disappearance of its Hero. Ron exhausted himself, refusing to give up any hope of finding his best friend, denying the possibility that he was dead.

After several months, the Aurors noticed that the murders had stopped ; no more bodies had been found since that fateful night and concluded that the killer was probably dead. A year later, the case was put on the back burner, and the Department reassigned the team to other more pressing investigations.

Ron placed his badge on Williamson's desk on a rainy spring morning. He left the Department without ever setting foot there again to work with his brother George in his shop on Diagon Alley. Jack, on the other hand, persevered a little longer and, when he had some free time, continued to search for clues at the crime scene.

Over the years, however, he stopped completely and devoted himself to his career ; he gained experience and confidence and gradually worked his way up the ladder. After the great fire of 1998, during which four years of investigative reports kept in a drawer protected by a faulty spell went up in smoke, the Department was remodelled and Jack was promoted as an officer in the Violent Crimes Section. He officially became the head of the Section in 2006 at the age of thirty-nine.

The next few years passed peacefully, well, as peacefully as possible in a criminal unit, until one morning in October 2016. The day Henry Cooper burst into the Department and joined his team.

Henry Cooper was young and dynamic, often angry and with an attitude sometimes bordering on insubordination ; but he was also competent despite his lack of experience, invested and took to heart the investigations assigned to him. He had integrated quickly into the team although his relationship with one of its officers was explosive. There was something about him that evoked a strange sense of familiarity to Jack and he began to observe him more and more attentively as the days went by. A gesture, a facial expression or a tick in his speech reminded him of the vague memory of his missing superior, but although he was curious, he thought it was only a chance resemblance.

Then they found a severed leg and suddenly the memories of thirty years ago resurfaced when Liam mentioned Henry's theory about the tattoo on the victim's heel. Five dots drawn in black ink, a detail so insignificant to anyone who would have been unaware of the 1985-86 cases that had never been made public. How had Henry Cooper had access to this information ? Jack knew everyone who had investigated and he knew that no trace of the files remained. Who was Henry Cooper really ?

The old Auror watched the young man with redoubled attention in the days that followed. His attitude and behaviour was exactly the same as he remembered, but it was surely a coincidence. There was no way it could have been this person... But after all, he thought, no body had ever been found. Was it possible that Harry Potter could have travelled forward in time ? His doubts vanished after the investigation was concluded, when he followed the young Auror to the tunnel and surprised him as he walked through it before he heard him cry out “... Is it because I'm Harry bloody Potter that fate is fucking with me ?!”

“Ha- Harry ?” Jack whispered hesitantly. “Is it really you ?”

Caught off guard, Harry initially remained silent, not knowing what to say, like a deer caught in headlights.

“Chief !” Jack suddenly exclaimed, an expression of relief mingled with the tears on his face. “I thought you were dead !”

The old Auror rushed towards him, grabbed him in his arms and hugged him, as if he was afraid he would disappear again before his eyes. After a few seconds of surprise, Harry hugged him back and laughed at the unexpected situation.

They went to the Leaky Cauldron, where they sat in a corner of the large main room, still busy at this hour, with a beerbutter in front of them, to talk. Sitting opposite each other, Jack watched in amazement and fascination, as if he still couldn't believe it.

“Have you really travelled forward in time ?”

“I woke up here after being left for dead in the tunnel,” Harry replied, swallowing a sip of his pint. “By the way, how did the investigation end ? Did you arrest the murderer ?”

“No...,” confessed old Auror.

“You didn’t ?!”

“After you disappeared, there were no more murders. It was finally assumed that the killer was dead. You saw him in the tunnel, did you see his face ?”

“It was too dark,” the young Auror said, shaking his head. “I should have arrested him that day. It was really too stupid.”

“And…” Jack started, leaning a little more over the table. “Do you think you can go back to 1986 if you go through the tunnel again ?”

“No, it doesn't work. I've already tried it many times.”

“Why not ?”

“I don't know why ! If I knew, I would have gone back by now !” Harry exclaimed in frustration.

“Careful, you're getting angry,” the old Auror said.

Harry stared at him and pretended to hit him before his colleague raised his arm to protect himself.

“How dare you block ?!”

“I'm your superior ! Be careful how you address me !”

Harry whistled as he leaned back into his chair. He folded his arms and let his gaze wander around the room.

“What about this body ?” Jack asked him after a moment of silence. “How come you're in that body ?”

“That's another mystery. When I woke up here, I was myself. I think it was when he bumped into me that I became Henry Cooper. I searched but I couldn't find any trace of him, or anyone else who matched my description. It's as if he vanished into thin air.”

“I'm going to check with the Department, see if anyone knows anything. What are you going to do now ?”

“I’m not sure. Keep working until I find a solution. I'm sure there's a reason why I'm here, even if I have no idea what it is at the moment. I thought that solving Lloyd's case would allow me to go back.” He paused to think for a few moments before looking up to Jack. “Do you think it's because of the 1986 murders ? You didn't arrest the culprit. Maybe that's why I'm here, to catch him ? But why should I be the one to do it ?!” he protested, banging his fist on the table, startling his friend.

  
  


Harry had just walked through the door of the Department the next morning when the Lieutenant almost ran into him.

“Hurry up, we've got a case,” the latter abruptly said to him as a greeting.

The young Auror sighed, looked up to the sky, before turning around and following his partner. They apparated in front of the gates of an old and imposing building, hidden in a well-to-do residential area. The house elf had reported a burglary while his masters were away, on a trip to a faraway and exotic country.

As Harry and the Lieutenant inspected the premises, the former couldn't help but ask.

“Why do we find ourselves investigating a robbery ? It's not our job,” he added, his tone betraying his displeasure.

“I've already told you, all the other teams are busy,” the Lieutenant replied. “It should be a quick matter.”

They both crouched in the same movement to observe footprints on the light-coloured floor of the large living room, before looking at each other and getting up again. The rest of the room was a mess, a small piece of furniture was overturned and its contents scattered, papers were strewn all over the floor. The burglars had obviously been conscientious in their search. The Lieutenant turned to one of the Aurors who had responded to the elf's alert.

“What exactly happened ?” he asked the agent.

“The house elf was busy in the garden when he felt the protection spells activate,” he explained. “By the time he apparated into the living room, the thieves were about to flee. One of them hit the poor creature on the skull before it could react. He woke up a few minutes later, but the criminals had already left the scene.”

“Did you check where they could have gone through the protection spell ?”

“Sorry, no. I-”

“Hey. Go and check the integrity of the spell,” the Lieutenant said to his partner, turning to him.

“You go ahead yourself, jerk,” Harry replied.

“What's the matter with you ?”

“I'll go !” the agent intervened hastily.

“No, it's ok. I'm going,” Harry said, already on the move, glaring at the Lieutenant when he passed him.

The young Auror started to walk through the garden, along the barrier formed by the protection spell, looking for a breach. Eventually he found it, near a stone wall overlooking a street below. He was about to return to the house when the door suddenly opened and a teenager came out, dressed in a school uniform, with a backpack on his shoulder. At the same moment, the Lieutenant and the agent appeared in turn.

“Oh. I didn't know there was anyone else inside,” the agent said, surprised. “Were you in there the whole time ?” he asked the young man.

He didn't answer and his eyes went from Harry to the Lieutenant and the constable quickly. Suddenly, taking the three men by surprise, he turned and ran to the back of the garden. He jumped over the stone wall with agility, pursued by the Aurors.

The fugitive tried to sow the two men by rushing through narrow alleys before ending up on a wider street. He started to accelerate and narrowly avoided the Lieutenant's _Stupefy_. However, he could not dodge Harry's _Fulgari_ , who sent him down hard. Before he could get up, the Lieutenant was already on top of him, handcuffing him as he tried to struggle while screaming.

They took the young man back to the Department and interrogated him, sitting behind the Chief's desk.

“Property damage, assault and burglary,” Jack said. “This kid already has quite a record. Hey, are you planning to make the reformatory your main residence ? Why aren't you at Hogwarts ?”

“Pff,” the teenager huffed, giving them a dark look. “Anyway, you searched my bag, didn't you ? There wasn't anything in it that came from that house, was there ?”

“Then why were you there ?” the Lieutenant asked sternly.

“Because…” he interrupted himself and turned his gaze to the rest of the office before resuming. “The door was open, so I took the opportunity to go and have a look and see what it was like inside.”

“Liar !” Harry intervened and hit him on the back of the head. “Tell us the truth.”

“Why did you hit me ?!” the teenager said indignantly.

“Hey,” the Lieutenant called. “You're the one who was in charge of keeping watch, aren't you ?”

“I just wanted to see what it was like inside,” the boy retorted, his eyes averting the Aurors.

“He was the lookout,” Jack said. “Lock him up.”

“What ?!” the young man exclaimed, looking up at him with big eyes.

There were four small holding cells in the back of the Department. They locked the teenager in there and he tried desperately to call out to all the Aurors who passed by in the hope they would get him out.

“Come on ! The investigation is over, isn't it ? Let me out now !”

“Shut up, you brat !” Harry yelled at him from a distance.

“But I didn't do anything !”

At the same moment, Rose and Liam came in and settled at their desks.

“Have you found anything ?” the Chief asked them.

“I'd say it's the work of ex-convicts. They knew where to look for the loot,” Rose said.

“There are no witnesses and we haven't found any magical signatures,” Liam added.

“If they had time to empty the safes in such a short time, it's because they knew the inside of the house,” the Lieutenant said. “We should start with people who knew the owners.”

“What about him ?” Harry asked, pointing to the teenager. “If we find out about him maybe we can-”

“We have nothing to earn from him,” his partner cut.

“But still-”

“Hey. Use your head,” the Lieutenant told him, tapping his temple with his index finger.

“You jerk-”

“Chief,” Jack intervened, turning to Harry. “I can see right through this type of person. They lie all the time. They don't even know what they're talking about…”

He stopped when Harry gave him a discreet but urgent wave of his hand.

“Chief ? Why are you calling the rookie “Chief” ?” Rose asked confusedly.

“Oh. Uh,” he hesitated before clearing his throat. “I lost a bet. It doesn't matter. Go back to what you were doing. You two,” he said, waving to Harry and the Lieutenant, “go and interview the relatives of the owners.”

“I'm going to press charges against all of you !” the teenager shouted from behind bars.

“Hush !” Jack yelled. “Har- Henry ! Shut him up !”

Without waiting for an answer, he left the office in a hurry, under the perplexed gaze of his subordinates.

Harry was getting hungry. His belly made a gurgling sound and he let his eyes wander over his desk looking for something to nibble on. He gently swept Kevin away, looking behind its pot if he hadn't left a packet of biscuits, when the colourful packaging of Rose's Tim-Tam caught his attention.

Her maternal grandparents still lived in Australia, they had stayed there even after the end of the War, and they sent her parcels regularly. Among the food she received were the Tim-Tams and Harry had to admit that he had a soft spot for the biscuits. After checking that he was alone, he cast a quick _Accio Tim-Tam_ and called the packet to him.

“Ok, just one,” he murmured. “Ooh ! Dark chocolate and cherry, the best !”

He thought that a cup of tea might be a perfect accompaniment to his snack and grabbed a paper cup that was lying around on his table, before getting up and heading for the break room. As he walked past the cells, his cup clenched between his teeth and his Tim-Tam in his hand, the teenager called out to him again.

“Sir ! Hey ! Sir !”

Harry stopped and looked at him without answering.

“When can I leave ?”

“Have you forgotten that you were arrested at a crime scene ?” the young Auror asked him. “You can't leave.”

“ Come on ! Don't fuck around !”

“You rude brat,” Harry replied as he approached. “You can't leave, I told you.”

“For real ?!”

Harry put his cup back between his teeth and nodded his way out.

“Oh no, no, no, ! Please ! I really have to go home ! What can I do to get you to let me go ?”

The young Auror ignored him, humming a little tune he had heard on the radio.

“Are you listening to me ? Answer me !” the boy cried.

As Harry disappeared towards the break room, the teenager desperately called out to him one last time. “Sir ! What if I told you everything I know ?! Could I go home ?”

“I thought you'd told us everything,” the Auror replied, turning to him. “Is this a game to you ?”

“The next target ! I can tell you what the next target will be !”

Harry heard Rose and Liam come back a few hours later as they were bickering amicably, followed by Jack looking at them impassively.

“Why is it so quiet here ?” the latter asked on entering the Department.

Harry rose from his chair to greet them, irritated. “Where have you all gone ?” he asked. “I found it.”

“Found what ?” Jack asked.

“12 Campden Street,” the young Auror said.

“Huh ?”

“The next target ! It's 12 Campden Street. I told you, didn't I ? It was worth questioning him. Ryan Skelton confessed to everything.”

“Why would he confess ? Liam asked, craning his neck to try and get a glimpse of him. “Why- Where is he ?”

“I let him go,” Harry answered. “We have his identity and address, he has nowhere to hide. He lives with his little sister, don't worry.”

“What an idiot,” Rose whispered, covering her eyes with her hand. “How could you believe him ?!”

“It's solid information !” the young Auror defended himself. “Let's go and check it out !”

“There's nothing to check !” the Chief intervened.

“Shouldn't we have expected this when we left him in charge ?” the Lieutenant interrupted as he entered.

“What's that ?”

“Skelton had nothing to offer us,” the officer continued. “He just seized an opportunity to be released early.”

“I tell you, it's at 12 Campden Street,” Harry persisted.

“Use your head,” his partner turned to him. “Think for two minutes.”

“You'll regret it,” the younger one warned.

“I doubt it.”

After watching him walk away, Harry turned to Jack and nodded his head. They went to the break room to talk privately.

“Is this how I trained you ?!” he asked his superior-slash-apprentice.

“No, that's not it-”

“It doesn't matter how many times you get played. An investigator always has to do his job. Remember ?”

“I... remember. But you don't know kids these days !”

“I don't care. I'll go and see for myself if I have to,” he announced before leaving the room.

Harry apparated to a quiet alley near Campden Street. After making sure he had not been spotted, he approached the wall surrounding the imposing house. He climbed up and glanced towards the house, just in time to see two men coming out. They were dressed similarly, their dark clothes and masked faces made it impossible to identify them. They realised that they were being watched and began to flee in the opposite direction.

The young Auror dropped into the garden and went after them, shouting “Hey ! Stop ! Come back !”. He managed to catch the slower of the two and grabbed the bag he was carrying on his back. The suspect got rid of it, leaving it in the hands of the investigator.

His accomplice took advantage of the Auror's inattention to try to hit him, but Harry managed to dodge the blow by stepping back sharply. The thieves fled again and reached the stone wall at the back of the property. They went over it and once they were out of the compound, apparated before the detective could intercept them.

Harry was sitting on the steps of the stairs leading up to the house when his team arrived on the scene. He stood up and dusted off his trousers, preparing to greet them.

“You were right !” Liam said as he approached.

“How could anyone have guessed the kid was telling the truth,” Rose said apologetically, biting her lip. “We're so used to this kind of delinquent taking us for a ride.”

“It didn't cost anything to check,” Harry replied grumpily. “Hey Lieutenant! You told me to use my head, didn't you ?”

The latter ignored him, looking everywhere but at the young Auror. Something seemed to attract his attention and he rushed towards the house without saying a word to them. The rest of the team met him in front of the building where he was talking to an Auror who had been assigned to collect clues. Once his conversation was over, he turned to the team.

“It's the same company that handles the protection spells around this property and the one the other day,” he announced. “We're going to have to get a list of their employees. And question Ryan Skelton again.”

Harry and his partner went to the teenager's house the same day to question him. The young Auror knocked on the door of the small flat in a suburban building, but received no answer. He could hear the neighbours' dogs barking across the corridor and the TV next door at full volume. He called out the boy's name through the door and then pulled the handle. The door was unlocked.

The two Aurors carefully entered the quiet, darkened flat.

“Where's the switch ?” Harry whispered, probing on the wall.

“Wait,” the Lieutenant said, placing his arm against the young Auror's chest to stop him. “I can smell blood.”

They drew out their wands and lit up the room before moving slowly forward. As his partner walked to the small bedroom Harry turned to the bathroom. He let out an expression of surprise when his _Lumos_ revealed the inert shape of the teenager curled up on the tiled floor.

“Ryan !” he exclaimed as he rushed towards him. “What happened ?! Ryan !”

He turned him onto his back, revealing the front of his white t-shirt soaked in clotted blood.

“Ryan ! Wake up ! Wake up !”

The Lieutenant joined him in two quick strides, crouched down beside him and put two fingers on the boy's neck. He glanced at Harry and shook his head. At the same time, a thud was heard in the room just opposite.

The two Aurors got up slowly and moved forward with their wands raised. Just in front of them was a large wooden cupboard and the Lieutenant held out his hand to the handle. He looked at Harry, nodded his head and opened the door with a sharp gesture. Their eyes opened wide.

Inside was a little girl, visibly unconscious.


	8. -8-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo !  
> Here's chapter 8 !  
> I must admit, I have a lot of fun writing the relationship between Harry and the Lieutenant ! I hope you enjoy reading it as well ! ^^  
> Now that I have written the 12th chapter, I think that it might take more than 20 chapters to tell the story...

“First a burglary, now a murder. What's going on ?” Rose asked, crouching in front of the bathroom, watching the scene carefully.

The small flat was full of Aurors busy taking prints and clues, and Harry made his way with difficulty to get closer to Jack in the living room. Once he reached him, they were joined by Liam, who was holding a transparent sheet of paper with a shoe print on it.

“It's the same one we found at the first crime scene,” he told his team-mates.

This confirmed the link between the two cases.

“The girl we took to St Mungo is Ryan Skelton's younger sister, Daisy,” Harry explained to his superior. “They both lived here alone. Their mother died a few years ago, and the father is an alcoholic who only surfaces periodically. He is currently nowhere to be found.”

The young Auror sighed and looked down ; cases involving children were always the most difficult for him.

“How is she ?” Jack asked with a worried face.

“There were no signs of external injuries, but examinations are still underway.”

Behind the Chief, Harry could see the Lieutenant approaching the wardrobe in which the child had been hiding. His partner inspected the cabinet, opened it and slid inside and closed the doors. When he came out, he told them his conclusion.

“From there she was able to observe the scene,” he said. “The keyhole offers a perfect view of the bathroom.”

“So the girl could be a witness ?” Jack asked.

“We'll have to wait until she wakes up to be sure.”

The raw light of the scialytic illuminated the adolescent's body, lying on the operating table and partially covered with a blue sterile sheet. The smells of antiseptics, blood and bodily fluids floated through the autopsy room that Harry was now becoming familiar with. To his right, the Lieutenant stood with his arms folded, listening attentively to Dr. Adler's report.

“The murder weapon punctured the left lung,” the mediwizard explained, pointing to the wound. “Death was caused by severe hemorrhagic shock. The blow to the abdomen was not lethal.”

“It is a narrow wound,” the young Auror commented as he took a closer look. “Do you think he could have been stabbed with a small kitchen knife ?”

“I've heard that you don't have much experience in Violent Crimes,” the doctor said, turning to him. “I am impressed.”

 _Tsk_ . _Do you have any idea how many bodies I've seen_?

“That's right,” the coroner continued. “As you said, the width of the wound is narrow. It's also shallow, only ten centimetres. I think the killer used a small kitchen knife or a switchblade.”

“When is the estimated time of death ?” the Lieutenant asked.

“He's been dead for less than a day. It is presumed between two and four o’clock yesterday.”

“That means the girl was in the cupboard for almost half a day,” Harry realized with horror.

The Lieutenant's phone suddenly began to vibrate in his pocket, and he eagerly picked it up, immediately asking, “Has she woken up yet ?”

“He's really too uptight,” the young Auror whispered as he watched him walk away.

“I've known him for a long time. He's very competent,” the coroner intervened.

“Don't get me started,” Harry replied.

Dr. Adler let out an amused laugh.

  
  


After leaving the forensic department, they quickly crossed the long white corridors of St Mungo together to go to the paediatric ward, where Daisy Skelton had been admitted.

“Doctor !” the Lieutenant called out as he approached the healer in charge of the case. “Is she all right ? Can we go and see her ? We would have some questions to ask her.”

“How shall I put it…” the mediwizard began, staring at the Aurors. “She's awake, but not talking. She remains silent on purpose. She was found at home when her brother was dead, wasn't she ? She's in shock.”

Standing beside the bed, in the small room with pastel-coloured walls, Harry and the Lieutenant watched the little girl lying with her back to them. They had tried to talk to her softly, hoping to get a few words in response, but to no avail.

The door opened slowly and Harry turned his head, surprised to see the newcomer coming in.

“Professor Wellick ? What are you doing here ?”

“I don't know,” the researcher replied, standing between the two Aurors. “You're the ones who contacted me. I'm wondering the same thing.”

“I'm the one who asked him to come,” the Lieutenant said. “I thought we could use the help of a professional psychologist.”

“Criminal psychology,” the young professor stressed, turning his gaze to the child in the bed. “How am I supposed to talk to someone who remains purposely mute ?”

“I thought you might have a way to get her out of her silence. For a whole day she stayed with the corpse of her brother. Please, we need to know what she saw.”

“Hey,” Harry said. “You can tell at first glance that children aren't his thing.”

The Lieutenant said nothing, as always, and turned and walked out of the room.

“Hey ! Are you ignoring me again ?!” the young Auror shouted, before grumbling. “What a twat ! He's really testing my patience.”

Without a glance at the professor, Harry left the room and followed his partner. He quickly caught up with him on the hospital forecourt and approached him. He hit him on the back of the head, and the shock tripped the officer who dropped the jacket he was wearing on his arm.

“Oh, that feels good !” the young man exclaimed.

The Lieutenant turned slowly towards him, an absolutely outraged expression on his face.

“What ? What's the matter ?” the young Auror provoked him.

“What did you just do ?!”

“Go ahead, hit me if you want, you prick ! If you had listened to me, Ryan and Daisy Skelton would be safe. But I bet you don't care about that ! Why did you become Auror, huh ? Don't you see the victims ? Do you think that catching the culprits is the only job of a detec-”

His partner's fist made painful contact with his face, and his head was thrown to the side. He stood up slowly and felt something dripping from his nose.

“Damn it, I'm bleeding now !” he said indignantly, looking at his bloody fingers after running them over his upper lip. “You son of a-

“What ? What's wrong ? You told me I could hit you !” the Lieutenant replied with a smug look.

“Oh, I've been dreaming of doing that for so long !”

Harry raised his arm too quickly for the Lieutenant to react and could feel the satisfactory impact of his knuckles against his colleague's nose. The latter turned round sharply a few moments later, ready to insult young Auror, when he interrupted himself. His nose began to bleed profusely, and he sniffed several times before wiping it off with his hand. He widened his eyes when he saw his fingers stained with red liquid and stared angrily at Harry.

“What ? Come on, come at me. I'm waiting !” the latter called out to him, beckoning him with his hands.

The officer threw himself at him with a scream of rage and Harry, who had expected it, grabbed his arm to block him. He turned and tried to swing him over his shoulder, but his partner managed to get out of the way. Before he could react, Harry found his head stuck under the Lieutenant's arm and he cursed. He wrapped his own around his opponent's waist and tried to push him away and knock him down.

Around them, a crowd of curious onlookers began to form, watching the unusual spectacle of these two men fighting while insulting each other profusely. They had separated and were about to exchange blows when two Aurors present on the scene rushed towards them and interposed themselves. They managed to hold them back, not without difficulty. They were finally subdued after managing to kick each other a few more times, despite the valiant efforts of the agents to keep them away from each other.

  
  


They sat side by side at their respective desks, in silence and glanced at each other intermittently with dark looks. The Lieutenant sniffed disdainfully, bothered by the cotton he had placed in his nostril to stop the bleeding. A quick _Episkey_ had healed his nose but had not stopped the blood from flowing. Harry stared at him with the same expression painted on his face, only a few seconds away from sending another round of insults.

Jack approached their desks with his back straight, without looking at them. He turned slowly and put his hands on the youngest's table and then let out a long sigh, shaking his head. Harry looked up at him with his big dark eyes and tried to look as innocent as possible. Next to him, the officer crumpled a piece of paper more forcefully than necessary and stared at him.

-But it’s him- the young Auror began, pointing at his partner before his superior interrupted him.

The latter gave him a quick nod and ordered him to follow him and lead him to another room, away from indiscreet ears.

“Damn it !” Jack exclaimed, once he was sure they were alone. “How can two Aurors fight like that in broad daylight in front of a hospital ?!”

“Well, it's your fault,” Harry replied. “You forced me to be partners with that idiot. I can't stand him !”

“That's not what I wanted to do ! But he's very good at catching the culprits, though.”

“That's not the only thing that matters. He doesn't seem to be feeling any emotions. Is he always like that ?”

“Yes, but-

“Merlin,” Harry sighed. “I'm having a really hard time communicating with him. And anyway, he deserved a fist in the face !”

Without waiting for his superior's response, he turned around and went back to his desk. The young Auror went back to work and started to go through the list of the protection spells company's employees.

“Why do they have so many workers ?” he muttered as he turned the pages of the file. “My eyes are already hurting.”

He paused as he read the profile of one of the employees, a man named Dick Dankworth, who had been fired for theft.

“What a scumbag,” the young man commented. “Stealing from the landlords you are supposed to protect from guys like you.”

He looked at the man's picture and tilted his head and whistled between his teeth. He masked the bottom half of the employee's face with his finger and noted the resemblance between his eyes and that of the thief he had chased the day before. After a few moments he stood up, almost at the same time as his partner. They looked at each other, standing face to face, ready to put on their jackets.

“What ?” Harry asked abruptly.

“What ?” the Lieutenant replied in the same tone.

“What's the matter ?” 

“What ?”

“Merlin, you’re impossible,” Harry finally sighed. “I've got to go somewhere.”

“Well, go on then.”

“You go ahead, you got up first. Go.”

Harry and the Lieutenant appeared a few seconds apart in front of the same café, the _Black Kappa_ , a famous address among wizarding youth on Diagon Alley. They were obviously going in the same direction and the officer hurriedly stepped forward, glancing at Harry.

“You said you had to go somewhere,” he said to Harry.

“This is the place. Get out of my way.”

The young Auror grabbed the front door handle before his partner, but the latter shoved him and went into the café first. Harry followed him in and looked around. The main room was quite spacious and dark, with many nooks and crannies where there were tables surrounded by comfortable armchairs. There was an area with magic billiard and baby-quidditch tables. At this time of the day, the establishment was not very lively.

“Can I help you ?” a voice asked kindly behind him .

Harry turned to the manager at the same time the Lieutenant took out his badge and presented it to the man.

“I am Lieutenant G-” started his partner.

“Do you know this guy ?” Harry cut him off as he held out the picture of the protection company employee.

“Ah yes. He comes from time to time with a friend. He always sits in the back there.”

“Do you know if he was close to another client, Ryan Skelton,” the Lieutenant asked, presenting him with a photo of the teenager.

“Mh. Oh, yes. The older one was paying for the boy's drinks. This happened several times. They often talked to each other. They seemed to know each other well.”

The afternoon was already well advanced when they returned to the Ministry. Jack gathered his team together to discuss the investigation in front of the large translucent board on which the information they had was displayed.

“I heard that they had a fight,” Liam whispered, leaning over to Rose.

“Who do you think won ?” she replied in the same way, looking at her two colleagues.

“A Galion on Cooper.”

“I take the bet.”

The Chief cleared his throat with an angry look.

“What did you learn about Skelton ?” he asked his team.

“The kid was no longer going to Hogwarts because of Daisy,” Rose replied, straightening up in her chair. “He's never been a good student, but he didn't have any conflicting relationships with others and wasn't causing any problems, especially since he had to look after his sister.”

“He used to go to a café on Diagon Alley," Harry said. “He frequently met this man, Dick Dankworth.”

He made the man's face appear on the board with a wave of his wand.

“He worked until recently for the protection spell company”, the Lieutenant continued. “He was fired for a robbery in one of the houses he had protected.”

“That's a lot to be a coincidence,” the young Auror added. “There was another man who regularly joined them at the café.”

“We're going to focus on him for now,” Jack said, tapping on Dankworth's picture. “Try to find as much information about him as possible.”

They questioned the man's former colleagues. One of them told them that Dankworth had contacted him and asked if the houses he had placed under protective spells were still under protection. The wizard gave the Aurors a list of the houses concerned ; there were two of them. The Chief decided to put two teams on a stake out the next morning, one next to each house.

Harry had been standing next to the Lieutenant for several hours now, in total silence, hidden under a Disillusionment spell. He was watching the quiet, deserted street lit by the cold November sun, glancing furtively at his partner, when a sudden movement caught his attention.

“Hey !” he called out to the officer, elbowing him and pointing to the property they were watching.

Two men dressed in black were going over the dark metal fence surrounding the garden, visibly escaping after committing their misdeed.

Still invisible, the Aurors waited for the two thieves to pass in front of them to cast hindrance spells on them. Harry's spell reached the first man's legs, and he fell to the ground without understanding what was happening. The Lieutenant chose a _Fulgari_ which violently tackled the second criminal to the ground.

The young Auror then approached his suspect and saw him trying to grab his wand from his jacket pocket.

“In your dreams, sweetheart !” he exclaimed as he rushed towards him.

He grabbed his hands tightly and handcuffed him while his partner did the same with the other man who was screaming and struggling. Harry straightened up and pushed the strands of hair back to his forehead with a satisfied gesture.

The Lieutenant removed the masks that covered the faces of the two criminals. It was indeed Dankworth, but the two Aurors were surprised to discover that his accomplice was none other than the wizard they had interrogated the day before, who was still working for the protection company.

Dankworth stared arrogantly at the two Aurors, sitting nonchalantly on his chair in the small interrogation room. The Lieutenant slipped a photograph, a portrait of Ryan Skelton, in front of the suspect.

“Who’s that ?” he asked, looking at the picture with an air of disinterest.

“The kid you bought drinks for at the _Black Kappa_.”

The man straightened up, bent down and looked at the picture more closely before shaking his head and looking up at the Aurors.

“Nah. I've never seen that kid before.”

The Lieutenant slipped a second photo of Skelton, this time taken from his flat at the crime scene.

“So who killed him ?” he asked, looking into the suspect's eyes.

“Why are you asking me ?” Dankworth replied, raising his eyebrows. “I'm just here about a burglary. I'm not here for a murder.”

The interrogation of his accomplice was no more conclusive, although the latter's attitude was clearly less relaxed than his friend's.

“Speak up clearly, you scum,” Harry said.

“I- I don't know,” he stuttered, a drop of sweat slipping down his temple. “I didn't kill him. I'm telling you the truth.”

“Then was it Dick Dankworth who killed him ?” the young Auror asked curtly.

“Pardon ?” the suspect replied before swallowing. “N- No.”

“Then who killed him ?”

-I don't-

Harry got up suddenly and grabbed him by the collar of his jumper.

“Listen to me, you bastard. One of you killed him. And between you and me, I don't think it was you. How could you kill someone when you're shaking like a leaf right in front of me.”

The young Auror released him and the suspect let himself fall back into his chair.

“Do you think he'll thank you for protecting him ?” Harry continued. “No. I've seen this many times before. Just so you wait, he'll blame you. You'll rot in jail for 10, 20, 30 years. Let me know if you change your mind.”

“It's one of them for sure,” Harry said, half seated on his desk. “It's a pity we can't rough them up a bit like we used to.”

“Did we find anything during the search of Dankworth's home ?” the Lieutenant asked, sitting next to him.

“Only the stolen loot, but no murder weapon,” Jack replied, shaking his head. “Without evidence they can only be charged with aggravated robbery. Any news of Professor Wellick and the girl ?”

As if saying his name had summoned him, the young professor pushed the door of the Department and walked towards them. He nodded his head and greeted them.

“I've managed to get Daisy Skelton out of her silence,” he told them. “But it wasn't easy. The poor child had been through an incredibly traumatic event.”

He took a small vial out of his pocket, from which a faint blue glow was coming out.

“She confided her memories to me. You can see the whole scene as she saw it from the cupboard where her brother had hidden her.”

Wellick placed the vial in the Lieutenant's open palm, and he placed it in the notch of the translucent board. The four men observed the memories of Ryan Skelton's murder. They recognised Dankworth and his accomplice, the first one visibly furious with the teenager.

“Ryan. Will you explain to me how it is that the pigs released you so quickly ?”

“I told them I just took advantage of the open door to go for a walk around the house,” the boy replied, visibly terrified. 

“And they believed you ?”

“They had no proof. They- They had no choice but to believe me.”

“Then why was there an Auror on Campden Street ?”

“Huh ?”

Suddenly, Dankworth kicked Skelton's sternum hard and it was thrown on the bathroom floor.

“Do you think I'm fucking stupid ?” the thug shouted. “How dare you lie to me after telling them the truth ?”

“Please! Please don't kill me,” the teenager begged on his knees. “I didn't say anything ! I swear !”

“You didn't ?”

Dankworth grabbed him by the hair and, without warning, pulled a knife out of his pocket to strike Skelton in the chest. The boy collapsed on the tile floor groaning in pain. The murderer turned to his accomplice, who was frozen as he watched the scene.

“Stab him,” he ordered, placing the knife in his hand.

“What ? N-No, I don't want to !”

“Stab him, or I'll kill you myself !”

Trembling with terror, the accomplice hesitantly approached Ryan, who raised his gaze and begged him. He stabbed the boy in his abdomen with a sharp gesture and then jerkingly withdrew the knife. The two men fled immediately afterwards, leaving the dying teenager on the bathroom floor.

Ryan turned his head with difficulty, his gaze fixed on the cupboard and whispered "Daisy, stay hidden". His body collapsed and he stood still as the girl's cries echoed through the enclosed space of the cabinet.

The murderers were charged with culpable homicide and transferred to Azkaban awaiting trial. When they passed each other in the corridor, led by the Aurors in charge of the transport, the accomplice shouted to Dankworth “you told me you would take care of everything ! You promised me we wouldn't get caught !”.

Harry watched them walk away and leave the Department, a mixture of relief and bitterness in his heart. He glanced at the Lieutenant beside him and met his eyes. They stared at each other for a few seconds without a word. Harry nodded his head and, his partner returned the gesture without animosity and left the room. The case was closed.

November gave way to December and the investigations followed one another, more or less interesting depending on the case. On a quiet day, Harry was having lunch with Rose and Liam, when Jack joined them at the table.

“Where's the Lieutenant ?” Harry asked his superior, craning his neck to inspect the office through the doorway. “Wasn't he with you ?”

The Chief sighed, opening the box of his salad with a weary gesture.

“What's going on, Chief ?” Liam asked.

“A body was found on the outskirts of Edinburgh this morning. The Scottish office is handling the case but he went there anyway to check it out.”

“A body ?”

“A young woman,” Jack nodded. “We might suspect Spencer.”

“Isn't he the murderer who slipped away from the Lieutenant's hands a few years ago ?” Rose asked.

“Yeah, that's him,” Liam confirmed, nodding sharply. “That's why the Lieutenant even visits Muggle police stations whenever a young woman is killed. He can't accept that he made a mistake. He is a true perfectionist.”

“Spencer…” Harry whispered, tilting his head, pensively. “The name sounds familiar.”

“Of course you must have heard of him,” Rose looked up at him. “He's been on the wanted list for years. We don't even know how many women he's killed. He's a famous serial killer.”

 _Another serial killer_ , Harry thought. _Are there that many of them_?

“Did the Lieutenant really let him get away ?” Liam questioned dubiously.

“To be exact, it was his partner's fault at the time,” Jack replied.

The conversation broke off when Rose's phone started vibrating. She apologized and walked out of the room to pick it up. Liam took the opportunity to ask Harry about his predictions for the upcoming quidditch games, and the Lieutenant and Spencer were soon forgotten in favour of a lively discussion about the upcoming sports season.


	9. -9-

_Crime never takes a break_ , as the saying went, even as the festive season approached. Harry walked towards the lift, in front of which the Lieutenant was already waiting. They were expected in a restaurant on Diagon Alley where a body had been discovered in the toilets just before lunchtime service. The young Auror looked at his partner's serious face, then turned his attention to the lifts before looking at the Lieutenant again, opening his mouth and stopping himself.

“What ? What is it ?” the officer asked in an exasperated sigh.

“I heard that the guy you let get away was Spencer,” Harry replied, trying to take a nonchalant tone.

“What are you getting at ?”

“I'm just curious. Am I not allowed to ask questions ? Why are you so obsessed with him ?”

The Lieutenant didn't answer him. The cabin doors opened and the two men rushed in.

“You never answer me anyway,” Harry grumbled. “Is today a special day ? You're dressed all in black. You look like you're going to a funeral.”

“Shut up,” his partner replied dryly. “Have you seen what you're wearing ?” he added, staring at him from head to toe in disgust.

“What ?” Harry replied, running his hands over his jacket and reaching out his arms in front of him. “It's a K-way. It's Muggle. It comes in handy when it rains. I found it in a thrift shop. I've always dreamed of having one.”

“It's purple, blue and yellow. The anti-rain enchantments don't exist for nothing.”

They hurried up the almost deserted street in the pouring rain to the _Focifère en Pâte_ , the restaurant where the lifeless body of a man in his thirties had been found. According to the first information they had, it was the son of a good family, a professional quidditch player for a local team, who was very promising.

When they arrived on the spot, the two Aurors presented their insignia to the officer waiting in front of the door and entered the establishment. Five patrons were already present at the time of the incident and, as luck would have it, an Auror had been on patrol at the moment of the incident. He had cordoned off the premises, preventing anyone from entering or leaving and had notified the Department.

“Oh, Merlin !” Harry suddenly exclaimed.

“What ?” The lieutenant turned to him, on the alert.

“Thirty quids for a small piece of lobster ? This restaurant is overpriced !”

His partner preferred not to answer and began to question the restaurant manager. The latter led the two detectives to the crime scene, in the narrow toilets at the end of a corridor lit with dim lights. The victim was still there, lying on the floor with a pool of blood around his head. Two technicians from the forensic medical service were working around the body, and one of them asked them to move back a little so that he could cast his _Appare Vestigium_ and reconstruct the scene.

Two golden silhouettes appeared. The first one, smaller than the other, was washing its hands, when the second raised its wand and cast a spell. The golden jet of light came into contact with the victim, and he collapsed. His head hit the washbasin before falling to the floor and remaining there motionless. The silhouettes vanished, and Harry nodded his head in satisfaction.

“It's going to be quickly solved,” he said, his hands on his hips. “All we have to do is check the wands of each client present and see what spells they cast last.”

This was not to mention the bad faith of the witches and wizards present, who complained about the infringement of their rights and privacy when the Aurors demanded the wands. Harry was hardly surprised, considering the population that could afford to go to such a high standard restaurant, one would have expected to encounter some reluctance.

“Do you have any idea who I am ?!” a middle-aged wizard in a very chic three-piece robe exclaimed.

“Should I ?” Harry replied between his clenched teeth, at the limit of his patience.

“Olaf Halfenaked, I am the Vice President of the Magic Chamber of Commerce. You can't treat me like this. It's unacceptable.”

“We are not interested in your status, Mr. Halfenaked,” the Lieutenant intervened, approaching behind the young Auror.

He must have sensed the mood of his partner, who was on the verge of becoming guilty of murder himself, and came to his aid. Harry was grateful to him.

“We're here to do our job,” the officer continued. “Please don't stop us, or I'll have to arrest you for obstruction of justice.”

Halfenaked gave them a nasty look, held out his wand with a slow gesture and Harry grabbed it. He had to pull on the piece of wood several times to get the man to let go at last. The young Auror put the wand on one of the tables and cast a _Prior Incanto_.

“ _Arrigere Mentula_ ? I don't know th-

Hermione had always reminded Ron and Harry of the importance of Latin in the construction of spells and had taught them a list of vocabulary. From the depths of his memory, he drew the meaning of these words.

“Oh. _Oh_ ," he murmured before he glanced at the Lieutenant and met his horrified gaze.

He hastily returned the wand to its owner, whose face had turned a purple hue, thinking that there were secrets that had better stay that way. It was certainly not the murder weapon. Suddenly he heard a voice shouting “stay away from me !” and turned sharply. The Lieutenant was standing in front of a man in his sixties, a hand raised in a sign of appeasement, despite the wand pointing at him.

“Put down your wand, sir,” the officer ordered calmly.

“I didn't- I didn't want to kill him !”

Of all the customers in the restaurant, the man was the most simply dressed, with dark and casual robes. His face was sad and his features tired. He was pointing his wand at the Aurors and his arm was shaking, betraying his nervousness.

“I swear I didn't mean to kill him,” he continued, a lower tone. “I just wanted him to tell me why !”

“Why what ?” Harry asked, moving slowly beside the Lieutenant.

“Why did he kill my son !”

The young Auror and his partner looked at each other furtively before turning their attention to the suspect.

“Ten years ago,” explained the man in a hoarse, trembling voice. “He killed my son. They were in the same quidditch team. There was a party that got out of hand but my son's death was classified as an accident. It wasn't the first time this boy had been involved in incidents but because of his rich parents they always got away with it.”

He paused, shaken by a sob.

“When I saw him, happy, living an easy and luxurious life, I couldn't stand it. I confronted him in the toilet, but you know what he answered me ? " _Your son was an idiot. He had no place in our team_ ". I lost control.”

“And you killed him,” Harry concluded calmly.

The man nodded his head slowly, his cheeks covered with tears but his wand still pointed firmly at the Aurors.

“Did it change anything ?” the Lieutenant asked suddenly, staring at him. “Did it ease your pain ? Or brought your son back to life ?”

Harry turned his attention to his partner. His dark gaze was fixed on the man, determined. _He doesn't usually feel empathy for victims_ , he thought. _Where does that come from_?

“What do you want to hear me say ?” the suspect asked. “What do you know about it ?”

“I know,” the Lieutenant answered. “I too wanted to kill whoever did this. I wanted to find the one who murdered my mother and make him pay with my own hands. But even if I succeed, what difference will it make ?”

He paused. Only the continuous rain broke the silence in the restaurant. Harry couldn't take his eyes off his partner, who was usually so controlled. He could see him shaking slightly and trying to control his emotions.

“Do you know what the victims really want ? They want to see the perpetrators confess their crimes in court and receive the punishment they deserve. They don't want revenge like that.”

“I don't care about any of this !” the man shouted.

“That makes you the same kind of person as the murderer then ! Is this really what you want ?”

“Nothing matters now. It's over. It's all over.”

“No,” the officer replied. “It was over when your son died. It was over then.”

“Over ? It was all over… then ?” The man slowly lowered his wand and his shoulders slumped. “Maybe my wife knew,” he continued. “I told her to forgive the boy who took our son away from us. Seven years after his death, my wife followed him. That's when I realised… she committed suicide. It was because of me. I killed her too. Because I didn't do anything.”

“It's not just you,” the Lieutenant said in a low voice. “Anyone would have reacted the same way. Anyone. I didn't realise that until after I joined the Aurors. There's nothing you can do about it when it's already happened. There was nothing my father could do.”

He had added these last words in a whisper, but Harry heard it anyway. The suspect was restrained and then taken to the Ministry by Aurors who had arrived on the scene in the meantime. The Lieutenant was about to follow them out of the restaurant, turning his back on Harry, when Harry stopped him.

“Was it because of your mother ?” he asked. “Is that why you're after Spencer ?”

“That's none of your business,” his partner replied.

“I'm sorry,” Harry said softly after a moment of silence.

The Lieutenant turned to him, looking at his face with his indecipherable look.

“Now I know why you need to arrest the culprits so badly,” the young Auror continued. “If you fail, you know how unhappy the families will be. You know that better than anyone. It doesn't stop until the culprit is behind bars.”

He walked towards the officer to get to his level. “I understand that. Believe me, I understand. If you need help, let me know.”

His partner didn't answer and turned his head towards the open restaurant door. They both stood for a while, silently watching the downpour outside.

The large bay window of the Ministry cafeteria offered a view of a heavenly beach and a turquoise sea stretching to the horizon, far away from the dreary British winter weather. Sitting in a comfortable armchair, Harry watched the landscape, lost in thought.

“What are you thinking about so seriously ?” Jack asked him, sitting opposite him and placing two cups of hot tea on the table.

“It must have been so hard to live for ten years without his son,” the young Auror whispered, without taking his eyes away from the window, thinking back to the man. “Did he eat well ? Did he sleep well ? How did he feel when he saw young men his son's age ?”

He paused and turned to his friend. “Hey, Jack ?”

“Mh ?”

“How did you feel after I had disappeared in that tunnel ?”

“Are you seriously asking me this ?” the Chief asked in disbelief before sighing and shaking his head. “I felt so bad after that because I knew nothing would have happened to you if I had come with you ! I drank Firewhisky every night. Litres of Whisky !” he added exaggeratedly.

Harry smiled and looked out of the window again. “So Ginny... How do you think she feels now ? I hope she's not crying too much. That she's happy. That she is loved.”

“Harry.”

“What ?”

“Ginny. Rose must have told you, she moved to Sweden a few years after your d- After you disappeared.”

“Yes, she mentioned that.”

“She got married again. Maybe ten years later, if I remember correctly. I'm sorry.”

Harry didn't answer. The news broke his heart, he couldn't deny it, but he was relieved to know that she had found someone to share her life with, that she hadn't been alone all those years. He hoped that wherever she was at that time, she was happy. He clung to the idea that he would see her again soon, confident that he would find a way to get back to her in 1986 and make sure that none of this ever happened.

  
  


Harry realised with surprise that it had now been just over two months since he mysteriously appeared in 2016. A few days before Christmas, he went out on Diagon Alley, wandering among busy passers-by buying presents. The main street was entirely decorated and, at night, the illuminations glittered with a thousand colours. The Department had not escaped the holiday frenzy and even Kevin had been given a Christmas hat made by Rose.

Harry watched the crowd of wizards coming and going between the shops with a tight heart. Christmas had always been one of his favourite holidays since he was eleven years old. For him, it meant a reunion with his family at the Weasley home, warmth and happiness. This year, he felt incredibly alone, lost in a time that was not his own, so far away from his family and Ginny.

He decided to drown his sorrows in a few glasses of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky and entered the pub that he and his teammates used to frequent. As he walked into the large room with its warm and cosy atmosphere, he immediately saw a familiar face.

Sitting at a table a few metres away was the Lieutenant. He was not alone and Harry recognised Professor Wellick. _Are they friends_? the young Auror wondered curiously. It was true that his partner regularly asked the teacher for advice during their investigations. The temptation to find out more was too strong, and Harry approached them.

“Hey !” he called out to his partner, who turned his head towards him and looked at him with a dark look. “I thought you weren't the type to go out to the pub like that !” Then he turned to the young researcher. “Good evening Professor Wellick !”

“Good evening Henry,” the young man replied with a genuine smile.

“Do you mind if I sit down ?”

“Not at all,” Wellick said, at the same time the Lieutenant replied, “No, Cooper. Get lost-”

“Am I interrupting something ?” the young Auror asked as he took his seat, then continued without waiting for the answer. “Never mind, I'm offering the next round !”

One glass called for another and soon the effects of the alcohol were felt and the atmosphere relaxed, even if the Lieutenant continued to shoot daggers at his young colleague with his eyes. Wellick had undertaken a psychological analysis of Voldemort at the request of Harry, who listened with fascination.

“Voldemort or Riddle, if you like, is really a textbook case. From what I know of his childhood, he had traits that are found in many serial killers.”

“How so ?”

“It’s called the Macdonald Triad. These are three behavioural characteristics usually associated, if presented together, with violent tendencies. They include cruelty to animals, pyromania and nocturnal enuresis.”

“Cruelty to animals, check,” Harry commented. “Pyromania, I wouldn't be surprised, but bed-wetting… I must admit we never got to the bottom of it with Dum- with my mentor.”

“There was also the antisocial, violent and manipulative behaviour and all of that in his childhood alone. He collected trophies, which is pretty typical of serial killers. He had a charismatic personality that allowed him to surround himself with a group of followers, and they lent to his actions an ideology that he may not have had in the beginning. It's a bit like this Muggle, Charles Manson, who pushed his followers to murder other people.”

“Can Voldemort really be compared to, say, Spencer ?” the Lieutenant asked, his chin resting in his hand.

“It always comes back to that one,” Harry mumbled. “What's your story with this guy anyway ?”

“What ? Do you want me to tell you how he managed to escape when I had just arrested and interrogated him after several months of tracking ?”

Without waiting for Harry's answer, he straightened up in his chair and took a sip of whisky before starting his story. The young Auror certainly wasn't going to stop him and miss the opportunity to finally find out a little more about his partner.

***

The lieutenant entered the interrogation room and sat down at the small table while putting down the file in his hands. He opened it, took out a blank sheet of paper and began to take notes. _22 October 2014_. The date he had finally apprehended this bastard Donnie Spencer and was going to get him to confess his crimes. He looked up at his suspect.

“Mr. Spencer. Did you abduct and kill Chrissie Fernsby, a healer who worked at St Mungo ?”

The man in front of him did not answer and kept his eyes down. He was in his forties, with shaved hair and a hard face. The Auror slid a miniature version of the translucent board from the office onto the table. The victim appeared on it, a young woman in a nurse's outfit, and a white car, which she entered.

“This is the memory of a hospital employee. The last time Miss Fernsby was seen was when she got into your car.”

He took a photograph out of the file. It was a decomposed body but the healer's outfit was recognisable. “Two months later she was found dead,” he said in a neutral voice.

A few seconds of silence elapsed and then the Lieutenant spoke again. “What does it feel like to kill someone ? Did you like it when she stopped breathing ? Or maybe, did it excite you ?”

Spencer looked up and finally met his eyes, causing the Auror to shiver almost imperceptibly. He tilted his head slowly.

“Do you want to know something even more interesting ?” he asked in a hoarse voice, ignoring the detective's questions.

The detective sighed and moved back slightly into his chair, beckoning him to continue. Spencer leaned forward and put his elbows on the table.

“I've killed more people than you think. I'd like you to look for them.”

The Lieutenant couldn't help but let out a laugh when he heard these absurd remarks. “Stop making things up,” he said shaking his head. “You're not even that clever.”

“It's a case no one knows about,” Spencer continued. “You won't find it in any file.”

The Auror's face grew serious again, and he scrutinized the suspect carefully. The latter started to laugh, louder and louder, and the detective knew the interrogation was over.

Spencer's words were echoing in his head, and he opened the criminal's file and went back into it. There, an old address. He had lived in a nearby neighbourhood. _A never recorded and unknown case_ , he thought. _Just as there is no record of my mother's case. Could it be that…_?

His thoughts were interrupted by the metallic sound of a cell door opening. The serial killer appeared, escorted by two Aurors, one of whom was the Lieutenant's partner, to be transferred to Azkaban. Their eyes met and they watched each other until they could no longer see the other.

A few minutes later, a scream was heard in the corridor in front of the Department. The Lieutenant rushed towards its source and discovered his partner on the ground who was holding his bloody leg, groaning in pain.

“What happened ?!” the officer cried.

“Spencer ! Spencer ! He had concealed a weapon ! He took my wand !”

The Lieutenant got up abruptly and went in search of the suspect. He ran to the Atrium, deserted at this late hour of the night. Wherever he looked, there was no trace of Donnie Spencer ; he had vanished into thin air.

***

“Woah,” had all Harry could whisper once his partner had finished his story. “What a douchebag. Now I know why you have such a bad temper.”

“Thank you for that constructive comment, Henry,” the Lieutenant replied sarcastically.

“You know what ? I don't like you, but I'm going to help you get your hands on this scum,” the young Auror solemnly declared. “We're going to help you, aren't we, Prof ?”

“We'll do everything we can,” Wellick nodded. “I know what it feels like to wish for justice for a missing relative.”

Harry told the bartender that they needed another round. Once they were served, he raised his glass. “Here's to everyone who's lost a parent, then.”

The three men drank their glasses in one gulp before looking at each other, amused.

“What a team we make,” Harry commented.

If anyone had asked if the evening had ended in an arm-wrestling match between the two Aurors, heavily drunk, in front of a crowd of wizards cheering them on while placing bets, the Lieutenant would have replied that there was not enough evidence to make such a hypothesis.

  
  


“Merry Christmas, Harry !” Jack said cheerfully as he sat down next to his friend.

“Shhh,” Harry replied without lifting his head from his desk. “It's too early. Why are you making so much noise ?”

“Merlin, did you spend the night in a distillery ? Just talking to you makes my blood alcohol level rise. Here, drink this.”

The old Auror called out a small vial from his desk drawer and slid it in front of the young man.

“My hero,” the latter mumbled.

Seconds later the effects of the hangover potion began to be felt and Harry was able to sit up in his chair without feeling as if he had been swung around by the Whomping Willow.

“What were you saying about Christmas ?” he asked, turning to Jack.

“I know it's only the 21st, but I wanted to give you this,” he answered, handing a phone to the young Auror. “It's a smartphone. You can call people and send messages with it. You can even take pictures.”

“Oh yeah, Rose showed me,” Harry remembered, nodding his head.

“There's also a network called the Internet. The Muggles have theirs and we have ours.”

“That's what the Lieutenant uses every day, isn't it ?”

“Yes, everyone uses it. If there's something you want to know or find, you just have to consult the Internet. There's an answer for everything in there.”

“Really ?” Harry wondered.

“Yes.”

“Let me see it.”

Jack handed him the phone. He picked it up and inspected it.

“It's fascinating.”

The young man grabbed it like a microphone and brought it close to his face. “I want to know how to get back to 1986,” he said clearly.

“ _I didn't understand the question_ ,” answered the phone, startling Harry, who looked at it perplexed.

“It speaks !” he exclaimed, then added with a frown “but it doesn't work.”

“Ah yes, no, but this is not going to work,” Jack intervened hastily, almost looking at him with embarrassment.

“You told me I could ask anything I wanted ?”

“I don't even know what to say.”

Harry turned his attention back to the device. He remained silent for a few seconds before tapping his superior's shoulder. “Hey, give me the Lieutenant's number.”

“What for ?” the older man asked, giving it to him anyway.

“I'm going to test the messages. Like this ?”

He handed the device to Jack who leaned over to see.

“ _You're an idiot and I'm a genius. HC_ ,” he read aloud before straightening up. “I propose to you a resolution for this new year: gain in maturity.”

“Tsk. I was mature enough at Hogwarts,” the young Auror replied, waving his hand in an annoyed gesture.

The phone rang a little, announcing a new message.

“Oh ! He answered ! " _STFU_ ".”

Harry frowned and turned to Jack, who laughed at the screen.

“What are you laughing at ? What does it mean ? It must be an insult,” he concluded in the face of his friend's lack of response.

Liam and Rose's arrival ended their conversation, and the team began to work with gusto. After all, it was Friday, and it was pub night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry is such a brat and I love writing him this way !  
> I'm not an expert in criminology, so I'm sorry if I get facts wrong. But I do try to do some research before writing ! ^^ My Youtube recommandations are all about serial killers, psychopathology, autopsies and kpop... it's an interesting mix.  
> There is actually an analysis of the psychology of Voldemort, https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2015/09/the-psychology-of-voldemort/406162/  
> Thank you for reading, don't hesitate to leave a comment or a kudo !  
> See you next week ! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧


	10. -10-

The soothing sound of the surf rose behind the half-closed shutters through which the first rays of dawn began to filter. Harry turned carefully in the bed so as not to wake Ginny. Lying on his side, he observed the young woman, the freckles on her pale skin, her long eyelashes, her well defined eyebrows, her straight nose and her pink lips. He let his hand travel over the soft skin of her shoulder, his touch as light as a feather. She was so beautiful. He felt her move under his fingers and wake up slowly. She gently opened her eyes, wrinkled her nose and then smiled affectionately at him.

“You're watching me sleep, you creep,” she laughed.

“Because I can never get tired of you,” he said in a low voice.

“Oh Merlin, Harry. It's such a cliché, stop it !” she exclaimed, pushing his face away with her hand.

With a burst of laughter, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her towards him. She let him and laid down on his body, sliding one leg between his thighs. Her long red mane cascaded down to her shoulders and with one hand he passed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Good morning,” she whispered.

“Good morning,” he replied before kissing her.

The kisses turned into caresses and the caresses into embraces. The silence of the dawn was broken only by their mixed breathing and moaning. Their rhythm was slow and tender. As they held each other's eyes, smiles appeared on their faces, mirroring one another. The world around them had disappeared, and only them remained, lost in the sensations, the sweat on their skin, the warmth between their bodies, their hearts beating at the same time with each other. They felt the same emotions, joy, love and pleasure. They were one.

The alarm went off and Harry rose sharply in his bed, banging blindly on his bedside table to shut it off. He sat for a few minutes in the darkness of the sad, cold and empty little London flat he occupied. He ran a hand through his ragged hair, ruffling it even more and sighed. Another new day was beginning in 2016.

As he left the building, he was greeted by the familiar silhouette of his partner sitting on the low wall near the door. Wrapped in his winter cape, he handed Harry a large cup of hot coffee he was holding in his gloved hand.

“What are you doing here ?” the young Auror asked, accepting the beverage with an air of suspicion. “Have you come to apologise ?”

“Why should I apologise ?” the officer replied. “I haven't done anything wrong as far as I’m aware.”

“I don't know. You're in front of my building, and you offer me coffee ? It's suspicious,” Harry said, squinting. “And how do you know my address ?”

“I'm Auror.”

Shrugging his shoulders in agreement, Harry opened the lid of his cup and sniffed the contents. The enticing smell of fresh coffee made him put aside his suspicions and he swallowed a sip of this nectar from the gods.

“You said you wanted to help me get Spencer, didn't you ?” the Lieutenant said as he walked away. “I've come to get you. We're going to make a stop at St Mungo before going to work.”

  
  


“It’s only because it is you, Lieutenant,” Dr. Adler said, handing him the file. “I should not share this with anyone outside the investigation.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” the officer replied.

He sat down on the edge of the desk closest to him and immediately began to go through the pages of the autopsy report of Julia Chaplin ; the young woman found dead in Edinburgh. Harry slipped in beside him and tapped him on the arm to let him read it as well.

“The cause of death was asphyxiation,” the young Auror noted.

“Yes,” the coroner nodded.

“Two years ago, Chrissie Fernsby was killed in the same way,” the Lieutenant commented. “She was Spencer's last known victim.”

The two Aurors examined the photos of the victim's body displayed on the large white board in the office in silence.

“Professor Wellick says the suspect is a smart man. This way of killing shows that he likes to be in control of his victims' lives,” the officer said after a few minutes.

“Do you think these murders are the work of the same man ?” Dr. Adler asked.

Harry raised his head, a feeling of déjà vu when he heard these words.

“It's the same method used to kill in both cases,” the Lieutenant replied with certainty, never taking his eyes off the board. “The nylon stockings, tied hands, asphyxiation and women in their twenties. He does not choose his victims at random. He selected them carefully and followed them closely.”

“It takes time and effort to follow someone,” the coroner commented, before turning his head to the Aurors. “Lieutenant, as you can see, the autopsy did not reveal many clues. In this kind of case, you have to focus on what happened before and not after. You have to find out about the identity of the killer, his personality, his profile.”

“His profile,” repeated the Lieutenant, looking at the board in front of him.

“What's that ?” Harry wondered, his head tilted to the side.

“A tea cosy,” Rose replied, standing beside him with her arms folded.

“I can see it's a tea cosy. I'm just asking what it’s doing on his head.”

They were standing in the doorway leading to the back room of a pawn shop. An investigation in Knockturn Alley always offered the promise of surprising and often unexplained situations. The Ministry's Sanitary Services had been called by local residents who were overcome by the nauseating smell emanating from the adjoining building. When they arrived on the spot, they had discovered a corpse in the shop which seemed to have been deserted for a few days.

The victim's body was tied up on a chair, in his underwear, with a knitted tea cosy with flower patterns hiding his face. The forensic team was busy collecting evidence on the body while the Aurors inspected the premises. Harry and Rose were joined by the Lieutenant who paused to observe the body before turning to them.

“The manager's name is Prentis Marlowe,” he said. “No one in the neighbourhood has seen him for about a week.”

“This is also the estimated date of the victim's death,” an Auror from the forensic medical service intervened as he walked towards them. “The cause of death is probably due to an Unforgivable Curse, but we'll have to wait for the autopsy results to be sure. The crime scene has been completely cleansed of all traces of magic.”

“Not much to go on,” Rose sighed. “Another round of long evenings at the office in perspective.”

Prentis Marlowe had vanished into thin air, but he had a partner. They easily found the latter, Shaun Yalideh, who lived in an old building on a notoriously bad street in the capital. With Rose and Liam busy tracking Marlowe, Harry and his partner found themselves picking up Yalideh at his home. The night had already fallen for a few hours, accompanied by an unpleasant drizzle, when the two Aurors appeared in the cramped street. They looked around and saw their man, who had arrived at the same time as them, in front of the door of his building.

The Lieutenant walked towards him, his badge in his hand. “Mr. Yalideh ? We are-”

He didn't have time to finish his sentence when the man turned his heels and fled, leaving the officer frozen in place behind him. The latter took a few seconds to react and then set off in pursuit of his suspect.

“Ha !” Harry laughed as he watched him disappear around a bend in the road.

The young Auror tightened his grip on his wand, his other hand in the pocket of his K-way, and apparated to the other end of the street in the middle of an intersection. Moments later, Yalideh burst in and, busy looking behind him, collided violently with Harry. The impact threw the suspect against the nearest wall, and his head hit the brick with a thud. He collapsed, knocked out cold.

“Hey !” the Auror called, looking at the unconscious man slightly surprised. “I caught him !”

The Lieutenant joined him in hurried steps and stopped beside him, putting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. Harry put the handcuffs on Yalideh who was waking up with a plaintive groan.

Shaun Yalideh was not a smart man. His interrogation dragged on and he refused to reveal anything to them, pushing the investigators to the limits of their patience. After a sleepless night, however, he finally gave them a list of addresses that could have been used as Marlowe's emergency hideout.

The day was just beginning to dawn and the sun was timidly piercing through the low clouds of the winter sky, illuminating the still calm office. Harry was sitting in his chair, leaning his head on his backrest, his empty coffee cup clenched between his teeth. He was busy spinning his seat on himself, lost in thought, when Jack gathered the team together to take stock of the investigation.

“We've received the autopsy results,” he began. “The coroner found traces of the Cruciatus curse and identified the Curse of Death as the cause of death, which is estimated to have occured five days ago.”

He paused and turned to the large, translucent board to show the face of a man with half-long brown hair next to Marlowe's face.

“The victim was thirty-five years old,” he continued. “Already known to our services for theft and trafficking in rare magical objects.”

“Marlowe's shop was used as a cover for receiving stolen goods,” Liam intervened. “We have recovered some antiques that were obviously stolen.”

“Marlowe remains untraceable,” the Lieutenant said. “However, Yalideh finally gave us a few addresses where he could be hiding.” He slid three screens on the board on which the Aurors could observe buildings. “All these addresses are in Muggle London and, by luck, there are surveillance cameras in front of three of them. We can check if he appears in front of one of these buildings.”

They spent the rest of the morning going through the footage looking for their suspect when Rose gasped, starting her colleagues.

“There !” she exclaimed, pointing to the corner of one of the squares. “He's there !”

“You have really good eyes, Rosie !” Liam said with a smile.

The Lieutenant enlarged the picture with a wave of his wand. It was indeed their suspect entering one of the buildings.

“You have the eye of a hawk, he has a sensitive nose,” Harry commented, pointing at the two team-mates. “You really are a match !”

“We're nothing compared to you and the Lieutenant,” Rose replied. “You two maniacs are indeed the perfect team !”

“You take that back right now !” the young Auror threatened.

The young woman laughed, as did Liam next to her. Harry followed their glances and turned his head towards his partner, who was standing right behind him, in a posture identical to his own, his brows furrowed. 

“That's enough,” Jack intervened. “Concentrate. Now that we've located his address, we have a suspect to apprehend.”

The team members prepared to head out, Rose and Liam already on their way to the door of the Department. Harry looked at the board one last time.

“How handy these Muggle cameras are. To think that before, we would have had to go through it memory by memory in a pensieve. Things have changed a lot in thirty years.”

The Lieutenant looked at him curiously as he put on his cape but made no comments and walked towards the exit. Jack turned abruptly towards Harry, frowning.

“I feel like an accomplice !” he exclaimed in a low, tense voice. “I can't relax. Stop bringing everything back to the past ! Did you see his face ?” he asked, pointing to the door. “You're going to be found out at some point !”

“Merlin, Jack !” Harry replied, shaking his head. “You worry too much ! We're getting along pretty well now. He's talking to me !”

“He's the kind of guy who can identify a killer's Modus Operandi overnight. No detail escapes him. You have to be careful.”

“Hey ! Are you coming or what ?” the officer in question called from the door.

“I'm coming !” Harry replied before turning to the Chief. “You see ? He's talking to me.”

The four Aurors crossed Knockturn Alley, observed with suspicion by the wizards and witches they met on their way. In front of the dark building they had seen Marlowe enter, they took out their wands and, with a last nod, rushed inside.

The building was old, dark and unwelcoming. There was a thick carpet on the floor, the walls were covered with wood panelling and there was a musty smell. Harry felt as if he was in Grimmauld Place for a moment. While Rose and Liam inspected the rest of the hall, the young Auror followed his partner up the narrow stairs. The stairs creaked under their cautious steps. They reached the second floor. According to what Yalideh had told them, Marlowe's flat was at the end of the corridor.

The Lieutenant approached the door while Harry covered him. He tried to move the handle slowly, but it refused to move. The officer was about to cast a spell to open the door when Harry put his hand on his arm to stop him. There was a familiar smell in the air, but he couldn't recognize it.

“What are you doing ?” the Lieutenant asked.

“There's something wrong,” he answered with a wrinkle in his nose. “It smells weird.”

His partner looked at him sceptically. On the stairs he could hear Rose and Liam joining them. Merlin, he knew that smell, it was like… 

“Gas !” he cried, turning sharply towards the stairs. “It's gas ! Get out ! Get out now !”

He turned back to the Lieutenant. He was still in front of the door, motionless, an air of incomprehension on his face. _What is this idiot waiting for_ ?

“Lieutenant !” he shouted.

Harry threw himself at him and grabbed him by the waist, throwing them both to the ground. At the same moment a deafening explosion sounded. The door shattered and the building shook. The young Auror felt an impact against his shoulder.

“ _Protego_ !” the Lieutenant shouted against him.

The translucent shield rose up and protected them from the heat of the flames and the debris that fell around them. They laid on the ground for a few minutes to come to their senses. Harry shook his head and looked around. The fire from the flat had abated and the structure of the building seemed to be stable for the moment.

He then turned his attention to the Lieutenant. The right side of his face was bleeding but he didn't look badly injured.

“Are you alright ?” he worried in a hoarse voice because of the smoke.

The officer's gaze met Harry's and then slid to the young man’s left side. His eyes widened, and the young Auror turned his head. “What ? What's the matter ? Oh.”

A splinter of wood was sticking out of his left shoulder, just behind his collarbone. He grasped it with his right hand.

“No !” the Lieutenant exclaimed at the same moment, reaching out his arm to stop him. “Don't pul-”

Harry pulled it out with a quick tug. A stream of blood spurted out a good metre high before suddenly stopping.

“Why did you do that ?!” his partner asked, looking at him with big eyes.

“Pfft,” Harry replied. “It's nothing. Just a scratch. You see, it's not even bleeding…”

He raised his left arm. A new stream of blood gushed out of the wound.

“... anymore.”

This time the blood flow didn't stop. Every time he moved, a new section of the wall behind him was sprinkled with haemoglobin. Harry was starting to feel hot. He caught the Lieutenant's eyes, who was looking worriedly at him.

“I don't feel so good,” he whispered, running a hand over his sweaty forehead.

His vision wavered and then the corridor suddenly tilted. The young man saw the Lieutenant rush towards him and then it was pitch black.

“I’m alright,” Harry sighed, rolling his eyes. “I'm fine, it was just a little vasovagal episode.”

He was sitting on a stretcher in the emergency room at St Mungo, his teammates around him. Jack was by his side, inspecting him from every angle, with a worried face.

“I forbid you to put yourself in danger like that !” the old Auror shouted.

Harry moved back and looked at him with a surprised look on his face.

“Don't you take me seriously ?” his superior continued. “Do you think I like losing people I care about ?! I'm sure you have no idea how I feel !”

“Sorry Chief,” the young Auror mumbled, feeling guilty for making his friend worry.

“Is that all you have to say ?!”

“That's enough, Chief, isn't it ?” Rose intervened timidly. “He's awake and he's fine. So is the Lieutenant. That's the most important thing.”

“Mh,” Jack grumbled. “Since you're alive, I'll let it go this time. What about your wound ? I was told you were hemorrhaging.”

“Tsk. It’s nothing,” Harry replied, dismissing his concern with a wave of his hand. “The splinter of wood just hit an arteriola, that's what the Healer said. It's bleeding a lot and it's impressive, but it's not bad. One spell, and it's fixed !”

“And Marlowe ?” the Lieutenant, who had remained silent until now, asked suddenly. “Has he been found ?”

“No, not yet,” their Chief informed them. “He had set a trap in his flat to cover his tracks. The case was transferred to Moseley's team. The victim was their informant and Marlowe's got a lot of mob connections, so it's more their call than ours. It is, after all, the Specialised Section for Organised Crime.”

A few dozen minutes later Harry and the Lieutenant were deemed fit to leave the hospital. Rose and Liam had already returned to the office, leaving Jack with them. When they arrived in the main hall, his partner grabbed the young Auror's arm to hold him back.

“Henry, wait.”

“What's the matter ?”

“About earlier… Thank you,” the officer said sincerely.

Then without waiting for his answer, he started to move away.

“What's that ? I didn't hear it very well !” Harry called behind him, a smile on his lips. “Can you repeat that ?”

They were almost at the exit when a voice rang behind them.

“Gabriel !”

The Lieutenant stopped and turned around abruptly, fixing his dark eyes on a middle-aged man running towards them.

“Gabriel !” the man exclaimed, slowing down to their level. “Did you get my message ?”

“What are you doing here ?” he replied with a questioning look.

“It's your step-mother she-”

The man interrupted himself when he saw Jack and Harry. The young Auror frowned as he watched him. His face looked familiar.

“You must be his father. I am Jack Sloper, your son's superior,” he introduced himself.

“Sloper ?” the man repeated, staring at him. “Detective Sloper ?”

“Do you know me ?”

 _Very familiar_. _He looks like_ … 

“Don't you remember me ? My name is Michael Corner. You investigated the murder of my wife thirty years ago, Elisabeth Bickford.”

“What ? Elisabeth Bickford ?!” Harry exclaimed with surprise.

“What's going on ?” the Lieutenant asked, confused.

Harry turned to him.

“So, you're…” He found it hard to believe. Memories that seemed so distant came back to him. Michael's visits to the Department during the investigation, always accompanied by his young son. Harry always found time to entertain the little boy while his father tried to convince Williamson to explore one lead or another.

“Gabriel Corner ? _Gaby_ ?” he murmured, his gaze staring straight at the Lieutenant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo… Here’s the reason why he was only known as “the Lieutenant”, if you were wondering why I didn’t give him a name! (•̀ᴗ-)  
> One of my beta commented on the fact that Harry should have remembered the Lieutenant’s name, or at least have heard it called in the office or read it on some papers. While I agree with him, I also like to think that Harry is a bit like me and doesn’t/absolutely can’t remember names (that aren’t related to criminal cases). I’ve been working at the same place for 7 years and I still don’t know some (most) of my colleagues’ names (and I do try to make an effort but I just forget it a minute later and get too embarrassed to ask again and next thing I know it’s been years and it’s way too late), so I just call them “hey” and it kinda works out ^^.  
> So anyway, I hope you liked this chapter! Did you see it coming? Tell me, I wanna know !  
> See you next week! ( ❛ᴗ❛)✧


	11. -11-

The Department was deserted at this time of night, with the Aurors on call out patrolling the streets of the capital. Jack and Harry, sitting side by side on the sofa in the break room, were enjoying the calm while waiting for the Lieutenant. He had questioned them in St Mungo, but they had promised to explain everything to him later, after he had visited his ailing step-mother.

“How ironic,” the old Auror sighed. “We all meet in the Violent Crimes Section. I had never made the connection with Michael Corner. Merlin…” 

Harry thought back to the young officer's words about his mother's murder and his desire to see the culprit punished a few days earlier.

“He has become an Auror because of his mother,” he said, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

“Pardon ?”

“Gabriel. He became Auror to catch the culprit. I should have arrested that scum myself that day. That way he would never have had to join the Department.”

The sound of the front door opening echoed through the office and Harry got up to meet the Lieutenant, followed by his superior.

“What was that over there ?” the newcomer asked hastily, moving towards them, frowning. “How do you know my father ?”

The young Auror breathed out for a long time, avoiding his gaze. Jack was about to explain himself when he spoke.

“I am Harry Potter. In 1986 I investigated the murder of Elisabteh Bickford. I don't know why-”

The Lieutenant crossed the distance between them in one stride and grabbed Harry by the collar of his jacket.

“Don't fuck with me !” he exclaimed. “It doesn't make any sense ! How do you know my mother's name ?! Just tell me the truth !”

“He's telling the truth,” Jack intervened, putting one hand on the officer's arm. “It's Harry Potter. He was my boss thirty years ago.”

“I can't believe it,” the Lieutenant shook his head and let go. “Did the two of you plan this ? I think we would have noticed if he was Harry Potter !”

“We're not lying to you !” his superior shouted.

“Damn it, Chief ! He must have cast a Confundus charm on you !”

“That's the truth !” Harry replied, freeing himself from his partner's grip. “I can prove it to you !”

He addressed a sign to Jack who had stepped back a few moments before. “Give me an empty vial,” he said.

His superior opened his desk drawer and pulled one out before throwing it to him. Harry grabbed it and pulled his wand from his pocket and placed it over his head. He collected the translucent blue filaments of his memories in the small vial and then went to the large transparent board used for their investigations. He then slipped the flask into the notch and made the images appear on the surface.

He had not sorted them out, and memories of all the periods of his life appeared, one after the other in disorder. His first day at Hogwarts, the last battle with Voldemort, the faces of Ron and Hermione, some ceremony at the Ministry, the 1986 investigations, the Quidditch World Cup, Michael and his son, the tunnel, his arrival in 2016.

The Lieutenant approached the board, his eyes glued to the images and he reached out his hand, as if to touch them. He then turned his uncertain gaze towards Harry.

“Have you really investigated her murder ?” he asked in a trembling voice. “I don't believe you. It can’t be.”

“I'm sorry,” Harry whispered. “I couldn't catch the culprit, Gabriel.”

The Lieutenant took a few steps back, whispering “it’s impossible,” and then leaned against the nearest glass wall. After a few minutes of silence, he straightened up and rushed out of the Department. Harry was about to follow him, when Jack stopped him by holding him back with one hand.

“Leave him alone. He needs some time.”

When the Lieutenant returned a few dozen minutes later, Harry got up from the desk he had been sitting at and walked over to meet him. His eyes were lowered, visibly reddened, and he seemed lost in thought. He raised his head as he felt the young Auror approaching.

“Gabriel,” Harry said in a low voice. “Come with me. I have something to show you.”

Harry apparated with him and released his arm when he reached his destination. In front of them, at the end of the dimly lit path, was the tunnel. Harry walked to the entrance, signalled his partner to follow him and then took out his wand. He cast a quick _Lumos_ and stopped in front of the great stone vault, looking into the darkness.

“This is the place,” he said. “I came from the past through this tunnel.”

“But why ?” the Lieutenant asked as he looked around before turning to him. “What was the reason ?”

“I was trying to apprehend the culprit.”

“What culprit ?”

Harry sighed and then met his partner's eyes.

“The scumbag who killed six women, including your mother. Come on,” he added as he entered the long dark corridor.

They walked for a few minutes in the half-light illuminated by their wands, the echo of their footsteps resonating against the damp rock. Harry stopped again, this time at the spot where the body of the sixth victim had been found. The place where he had seen the murderer.

“Here,” he said, pointing his wand at the ground. “This is where Briony Talbot died.”

“So it was a serial killer ?” the Lieutenant asked, frowning.

“We didn't know the term at the time,” Harry sighed. “When the first body was found, we thought the killer might have been an acquaintance of the victim. We questioned everyone who knew her.”

The young Auror shook his head, remembering the disorder that had reigned in the Department at that time, and the endless interrogations that had been a waste of time.

“We never found a suspect,” he continued. “Usually, it takes us about three days to catch the culprit. But in this case, even after more than a month, we had no leads. And on top of that, people kept dying.”

Each of the young women's faces appeared clearly in his memory, as if he had them in front of him at that moment.

“Mindy Pinfield, Emily Browning, Lena Culbert, El… ,” he listed before interrupting himself and glanced furtively at his partner, who was listening attentively. “Elisabeth Bickford, Claire Tenenbaum and finally, Briony Talbot.”

“Wait, wait,” the Lieutenant interrupted with a hand gesture. “Claire Tenenbaum ?”

“Mh,” Harry nodded. “How do you think I identified her just from her leg ? It was because of the dots tattooed on her heel. The freak marked all his victims with a tattoo. One dot, two dots, three, four, five and six. I knew it was the same guy when I saw those dots.”

“I searched relentlessly for my mother's murderer,” the Lieutenant murmured. “But there was no record, because the files were destroyed in a fire and I never knew who had been in charge of the investigation. I never found any newspaper articles either.” He looked up and gazed at Harry's face. “Marks on the heels ?” he continued. “What you're telling me is something I've never heard of.”

“Because we've never released it to the public. Young women kept on dying, but we had no suspects. Our superiors were furious. Jack investigated the case with me ; he's familiar with the details. He is the only one.”

“Chief Sloper… I still can't believe it,” the officer breathed as he scanned the darkness around them before suddenly turning to Harry. “Claire Tenenbaum. You didn't know she was alive ?”

“We never imagined that it could have been the case,” the young Auror confessed while scratching the ground with the tip of his shoe. “We had noticed a missing number and searched the area for the fifth body. Unsuccessfully, because she was alive.”

He sighed and shook his head, pausing for a few seconds. “If I had known at that time, I could have gotten her testimony,” he regretted.

“You said you had met the murderer. You must have seen his face, didn't you ?” his partner asked desperately.

“It's just that…” Harry hesitated, his body shivering as he recalled that night. “He hit me in the back of the head…”

“Think. You must remember something ?”

Harry turned his head towards the exit of the tunnel while raising his wand to illuminate it. He unconsciously put his free hand on his neck and felt his pulse racing.

“It was too dark. I couldn't defend myself,” he murmured in a weak voice. “He squeezed his hands around my neck and… I don't know. I don't remember.”

Jerky memories came back to him, blurred images and sensations, as well as a feeling of latent panic. The voice of his partner beside him brought him back to the present moment.

“So you have no idea who could be the culprit ?”

“If I knew, I would have arrested him by now,” he replied. “According to Jack, there were no more similar murders after my disappearance. They thought the killer was probably dead. But now I'm convinced that this scumbag is alive. I think the reason I'm here is related to this case. I am sure of it, because of you. Because you are the son of Elisabeth Bickford and because we met at that time.”

“All right, then. If you're really from 1986, and you're Harry Potter, why do you look like that ?” the Lieutenant asked, adding a hand gesture towards Harry to his question. “Who is Henry Cooper ?”

“That's a good question. When I came out of the tunnel, I was myself. Cooper ran into me by accident, and I have been in his body ever since. But I haven't found any trace of him after that night.”

“Did you…” the Lieutenant started, giving him a calculating look, before he stopped himself. “No, forget it.”

  
  


“It's unusually peaceful this morning,” Rose whispered as she leaned over to Liam.

Sitting at her desk, she looked suspiciously at her two other colleagues in front of her. Harry and the Lieutenant were diligently writing up their reports on the previous day’s investigation, pausing only to ask each other for details, all with politeness and courtesy.

“I don't like it. Hey, Lieutenant,” she called out. “There's something going on, isn't there ?”

He straightened his head and looked at her in perplexity. Jack, busy flipping through today's edition of the Gazette, answered for her. “Nothing is happening, Rose.”

The Lieutenant's phone suddenly started vibrating and he picked it up. “Professor Wellick ? What's that ? Where ?”

He turned to Harry who gave him an interrogating look.

“All right,” the officer continued on the phone. “We’ll be right there.”

He hung up and stood up, tapping his partner's shoulder. “Come on, let's go.”

“Where to ? What's up ? What's going on ?” Harry asked hastily before following him while putting on his K-way.

“Hurry up,” his partner said as an answer.

Rose and Liam watched them leave impassively and Harry could hear Liam say “not a single insult. Something terrible is going to happen, this is not normal.”

  
  


The Lieutenant relayed to Harry the coordinates given to him by the professor and they appeared together in the main street of a residential area. After the few seconds of disorientation induced by the apparition, the young Auror couldn't help but notice that the surroundings seemed familiar to him. He inspected them as he followed his partner to the white gate of an apparently abandoned house. He was now certain that he was familiar with the place.

“Did he tell you to meet him here ?” he asked the Lieutenant.

“Why do you ask ? Have you been here before ?”

“One of our suspects lived here. A high school student.”

“What are you talking about ? This is Spencer's house.”

“Spencer ?”

All of a sudden, it all came to light. Spencer. Donnie Spencer. Of course he knew that name. " _I did kill the dogs, sir, but I didn't kill any humans._ " That's what he had said to him that day.

“I remember now !” he exclaimed, startling his partner. “The scumbag's name was Donnie Spencer ! Is that who you're hunting down ?!”

“I don't understand what you're getting at.”

“Thirty years ago, I arrested Donnie Spencer as a suspect in the murders of the young women. He was seventeen years old.”

“Wait a minute. So you met him in the past ?”

“If this is the same Spencer you're desperately trying to catch, how can you be sure he's the guy ?”

Their conversation was interrupted by the sudden opening of the gate and the appearance of Professor Wellick. He paused for a second to observe Harry's outfit and then waved them in with a "follow me" as his only greeting.

The three men walked into the property and, without realising it, Harry had taken the lead of their little team. They went around the house and into the back garden. The young Auror could still see the bodies of the dogs dug up and lined up on the sparse lawn.

“He had killed all the dogs in the neighbourhood and buried them here,” he said sombrely. “I had a bad feeling about him. But how did you find out about this place ?” he asked the professor, turning to him.

“I did some research. Donnie Spencer committed his first official murder ten years ago, his own wife, by strangling her. But I found something interesting. Remember Plaskitt ? The patient found dead in St Mungo ?”

He paused briefly, waiting for the two Aurors to put a face to the name, before continuing. “There's a witch interned there who sometimes spoke to me about her friend. She told me that she always dressed in a dress or skirt, even the day she was killed, in 1985. Maybe it was just a detail, but I couldn't help but notice that all of Spencer's victims wore skirts.”

“So he only stalked women in skirts ?” Harry asked, frowning, not quite understanding what the professor was getting at.

“I checked because I thought the case looked similar to Spencer's,” Wellick continued, rummaging through his bag. “I didn't find any files or investigation reports mentioning the case, but in the archives of the Ministry's library, I found these clippings from the Daily Prophet. The articles date from 1985. The patient was telling the truth.”

He took out several sheets of paper and handed the first one to the Aurors. Harry grabbed the sheet and held it in front of him so that the Lieutenant could read it with him.

“It's Mindy Pinfield !” the young Auror exclaimed.

“That's right,” Wellick nodded. “But how do you know that ?”

“What are you implying when you say, 'the case seemed similar to Spencer's' ?” intervened Gabriel.

“I was just wondering…” the professor answered, turning to him. “Maybe Spencer's first murder was actually thirty years ago. He was living here when it happened. It's next to where Pinfield was killed. I also found two articles from the same year.”

He handed them to the investigators. “They look like completely different cases, but the profile of the victims is similar and the murders took place on the banks of the Thames, even if some details in the modus operandi differ.”

The Lieutenant looked up at Harry and met his eyes.

“Hey Henry-”

“Wait a minute,” the latter replied, thinking at full speed. “So this guy was the real culprit ?!”

“ _Do you need a reason to kill someone_ ?” The teenager's words resonated in his memory. He closed his eyes, shook his head with a sigh and then turned his attention back to his partner.

“Let's assume Spencer is the culprit,” he said. “We need to catch him to confirm this theory.”

“I agree, but how do we find someone who's been on the run for two years ?”

  
  


Harry could feel a drop of sweat running down his temple. He shifted his weight on his right leg and pulled on his jacket with a gesture of impatience. Next to him, his neighbours seemed just as annoyed by the time it was taking, one of them letting out an exaggerated sigh.

There were six of them in all, standing next to each other in the small room in which the overheated air was beginning to become suffocating, each with a luminescent number floating above his head. The young Auror glanced at his companions, all young and small in stature. He noticed that the number two didn't even look a day over sixteen.

Suddenly the door of the room opened and an Auror appeared.

“Henry !” he called out to him, beckoning him to follow him.

Harry hastened out of the room in a hurry, bidding a final farewell to his temporary companions in misfortune.

“Well ?” he inquired. “Has the victim been able to identify the culprit ? I'm sure it's number four. I don’t like his face.”

“No, you're the one who's been singled out,” the Auror said, trying to contain his laughter.

“Again ?!” the young man cried. “But why ?”

“It wouldn't happen if you made an effort not to look like a thug,” Jack intervened, approaching them. “I've already told you to stop participating in the suspect lineups, you get picked every time.”

They bid goodbye to their colleague and continued walking towards the exit.

“I had never been able to do this before, being a celebrity. I find it fun.”

“The reputation of our Section suffers every time. Did you know that our colleagues were betting on the results ?”

“How dare they ?” Harry growled, absolutely outraged.

“You'd do well to be indi-”

“They make money thanks to me ! I deserve at least a share of the winnings !”

They left the Ministry and went in search of a pub for lunch. In spite of the cold and wet weather, the streets of Diagon Alley were relatively busy, witches and wizards taking advantage of the last days of the winter holidays to wander around and shop.

As the two Aurors were about to enter the establishment on which they had made their choice, a loud laugh echoed farther down the street. Harry turned sharply to listen to this familiar burst of voice. A few shops away, he saw Rose with two other people, whom he recognised immediately.

Ron and Hermione, older but still the same, broad smiles lighting up their faces. The young Auror felt his heart clench and had to resist the temptation to rush to them and take them in his arms; he doubted that they would enjoy being aggressively embraced by a complete stranger. He was content to watch them from a distance for a few minutes, until Jack came to get him, impatiently calling “are you coming or what ?” to him.

  
  


The week was coming to an end, and the Aurors of the Violent Crimes Section were preparing to go home for the weekend when they were called to head to a residential area on the edge of the capital.

Harry apparated on the small rocky path, in the dark night and in pouring rain, closely followed by the Lieutenant. They applied their anti-rain enchantments and headed towards their colleagues, who could be seen a few metres farther on. Several Aurors were slightly below the path, in a field of tall grass lit by their wands and luminous spheres above their head.

Once they had reached their level, Harry discerned the shape of the victim. He felt his blood freeze in his veins as he watched the scene he had seen before. It was a young woman lying on her side, her pastel skirt glued to her thighs by the rain, just like the blond hair on her face. Her eyes were open and her mouth covered by a gag. Her hands were tied behind her back, her feet were also tied and bare, and a piece of cloth was wrapped around her neck.

The technicians who were working at the crime scene to preserve it signalled to Harry and the Lieutenant that they could approach without fear of destroying the evidence. The young Auror was startled when he heard Liam's voice and realised that Liam and Rose had joined them in the meantime.

An agent handed a plastic bag containing the victim's personal belongings to Rose at the same time that Jack appeared and walked towards them.

“Has she been identified ?” he asked after observing the scene.

“Oona Simpson,” Rose replied, reading the ID card through the transparent bag, before adding in a trembling voice. “She is seventeen years old.”

Harry crouched down beside the body, closed his eyes and put his hand over his face. He opened them again and looked at the girl.

“Does she have a phone ?” Jack asked. “Has her family been contacted ?”

“Not yet,” Rose answered, handing him the phone, also in a plastic bag.

Harry saw the screen when Jack turned it on and read “ _20 missed calls from Mom_ ”. He turned his attention back to the girl.

“Oona,” he addressed her softly. “Your mom is waiting for you. We're going to take you home.”

Behind him, Jack turned to Gabriel. “Do you think it's Spencer ?” he asked him in a low voice.

“It's the same M.O. It's him.”

Harry got up and approached his partner, who was watching the scene slightly away, alone. Gabriel's phone suddenly started vibrating and he took it out of his pocket and put it on speaker after seeing the caller ID.

Before he could say a word, Professor Wellick's voice rose from the phone. “It's because of you, Gabriel,” he said unceremoniously.

“Excuse me ?” the Lieutenant asked, frowning. “What do you mean ?”

“The other day, I told you that the modus operandi seemed slightly different between cases. I wondered why Spencer didn't bury his victims anymore, as he used to do. Why did he leave the body in plain sight in Edinburgh ? This was the first murder he committed after his arrest.”

“What are you getting at ?”

“I think he wanted you to see the body,” the professor said in a definite voice. “Do you remember his interrogation ? You tried to provoke him and, in doing so, you triggered a memory that he had forgotten thirty years ago. Spencer is going to kill again, if he hasn't already, because he wants you to react. He is waiting for you to do something. This time, he will have made sure that the murder takes place in your jurisdiction.”

“Wait,” Harry intervened, cutting him off. “Are you saying he killed someone and left the body just like that for Gabriel ? Why would he do that ?”

“I think Gabriel triggered something in him when he provoked him.”

Harry remembered what his partner had told them that night in the pub. How during Spencer's interrogation, the officer had asked him how he felt when he killed, if it excited him.

“He's picking up where he left off thirty years ago,” Wellick continued.

“He's killing people again because of me ?” the Lieutenant asked, with an air of distress in his eyes when he looked at Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are now moving on to the main investigation ! I’m excited about this next part of the story and I’m having a lot of fun writing it ! I hope you’ll enjoy it as well !  
> See you soon ! (•̀ᴗ-)✧


	12. -12-

With grim and drawn faces, the members of the Violent Crimes Section team met first thing the next morning to take stock of the progress of the investigation over the past hours.

“The victim's name is Oona Simpson,” the Lieutenant began, standing in front of the board to give an update. “She is seventeen years old. She was a student at Hogwarts and was at her parents' house for the Christmas holidays.”

“According to her brother, she left the family home at about seven o'clock,” Rose said afterwards. “She didn’t yet have her Apparition licence and used to take a Muggle bus, which stops about 20 minutes walk from her home. We checked all the buses in service that evening. She didn't take any.”

“So she was killed on the way,” Harry said.

He looked at the board with the crime scene images, photographs as well as memories of the Aurors.

“The scumbag also strangled her with a stocking,” he observed.

“Was anything useful found at the scene? A clue? Anything at all?” Jack asked, running his hand through his hair in a tired gesture.

“Nothing that belonged to the suspect,” Liam replied, shaking his head. “He was meticulous in cleaning up his tracks and left nothing behind. The bag, the diary and even the stocking he used belonged to the victim.”

“Spencer never left any clues behind,” Rose commented. “He was only caught because of a witness who saw him and his victim.”

“We have a witness here as well. A pizza deliveryman saw the victim while he was out making a delivery. He passed a car that was moving very slowly, and that’s when he saw Simpson walking ahead. It’s most likely that Spencer was the driver.”

“Did he get the license plate?” Jack asked with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“He said it was too dark to see the license plate, but he thinks the car was a black sedan. The vehicle he was using before his arrest was also a Sedan, but white. It was an easy way to hide amidst the Muggles. He probably had it repainted and changed the plate since.”

“We must locate this vehicle at all costs,” their superior said. “Liam, Rose, go to the crime scene and try to find witnesses or Muggle video surveillance footage. You two,” he added, pointing to Harry and Gabriel. “Go to St Mungo to supervise the autopsy. There's no time to lose if we want to get this son of a bitch.”

  
  


If Harry was asked for his opinion, he would say that he’d rather read the autopsy reports than attend. It did not matter that this was not his first time, he could never get used to the experience he’d gladly do without, and so far he had managed to avoid it. Unfortunately, it was the Aurors' duty to supervise autopsies as part of criminal investigations, just as it was a means of uncovering clues that might elude the coroner.

The young investigator was standing next to his partner, both dressed in sterile blue disposable gowns, far away from the cloth outfits he had been used to before. With a cap on his head and a surgical mask on his nose, Harry felt like a real Healer, like those he had recently seen on Muggle TV.

In the middle of the air-conditioned and aseptic clean room, lying on the stainless steel table illuminated by the bright light of the scialytic, was Oona Simpson. The body had remained in the same condition as when it had been removed from the crime scene by the forensic team a few hours earlier. Dr. Adler, the Healer in charge, and his two technicians began the examination after a last look at their observers to make sure they were ready.

They began by loosening the nylon stocking around her neck and cutting the ties around her wrists and feet. They then removed the clothing, carefully placing it in sealed bags.

“You see how the panties are rolled up on her upper thigh?” the coroner asked, waving to the Aurors. “It was removed and then put back on again, apparently with difficulty. Probably because of the rain last night. Sexual assault cannot be ruled out.”

Harry felt a wave of nausea mixed with anger overwhelming him. He clenched his fists, seeing a similar reaction in his partner's eyes. The technicians plunged the room into darkness, then carefully passed their wands over the girl's naked body, illuminating it with a bluish light.

“They're looking for traces of biological residues,” Gabriel whispered to Harry as he caught a glimpse of his curious gaze.

The young Auror had never seen this spell before, it seemed quite useful. Once this first examination was completed, the light returned and the process continued. At each stage, one of the technicians took instant photographs which were displayed directly on the large white board at the back of the room. Next to these pictures, the observations of the coroner were automatically written with a black marker, acting like a quick-quotes quill.

“Cause of death: asphyxiation by compression of the trachea,” Dr. Adler commented in a detached tone. “You see these purple marks around her neck? The suspect repeatedly tightened and loosened the stocking, causing congestion, which resulted in the appearance of these red marks on the face, around the eyes and mouth, and bleeding from the ears.”

After the external inspection of the body, the coroner incised the victim's thorax with a precise wand gesture, forming a perfect Y from the shoulders to the pubis. He then carefully cut out the rib cage. Little by little, the organs were removed, rinsed, weighed, examined and placed in large metal cups on an adjacent table.

“Severe haemorrhage in the lungs. Evidence of long and severe suffocation. It must have been incredibly painful.”

The coroner then moved on to the stomach, just as meticulously, picking up a remnant of cake, probably her dessert, which had not been digested. He finally concluded his examination, to the great relief of the Aurors.

“I’d say that the time of death was between seven and nine o’clock yesterday. One thing is certain, the suspect is experienced. This is not the work of an amateur.”

His words were followed by a few minutes of silence, only disturbed by the noise of the technicians busy tidying up the equipment.

“He's a fucking degenerate, is what he is!” Harry suddenly exploded before turning to the Lieutenant. “How could the Aurors let him get away two years ago? If you had done your job properly, this monster wouldn't have taken any new victims today!”

“In that case, thirty years ago…” his partner began to retaliate before he stopped.

“What?” the young Auror aggressively retorted, raising his chin in a provocative gesture.

“Why do I even bother?” the officer sighed, then turning to the coroner. “We didn't expect him to start killing again so soon after Edinburgh. He was committing crimes on a regular basis before his arrest, about every two years. I don't understand why he shortened that period.”

“Murderers don't need reasons to commit their crimes,” Harry intervened sombrely.

He slowly approached the body and inspected the girl's feet, turning them slightly with his gloved hands.

“Auror Cooper? What are you doing?” the doctor asked.

“Nothing,” he answered. “Gabriel, a word.”

They left the room, followed by the interrogating gaze of Dr. Adler. After getting rid of their scrubs, they found themselves alone in the main office of the Forensic Medical Department.

“There were no dots on the heel,” Harry said abruptly.

“I noticed.”

“And what about the Edinburgh victim?” the young Auror asked, unable to remember if he had seen that detail in the file.

“There was nothing in the autopsy report either.”

“Then it's not the same guy.”

“There's a possibility that Spencer changed his modus operandi, as Wellick said,” the Lieutenant argued as he started pacing around the office. “It's been seen in a number of serial killers. One suspect used to kill elderly couples and then started targeting young women. We thought they were two different perpetrators, but when we finally arrested him, we found out that it was the same guy. It’s possible that Spencer's case is the same. This time he didn't mark his victim with a tattoo.”

“He didn't mark her?” Harry thoughtfully repeated. “Another thing. Thirty years ago, victims didn't show signs of sexual assault. I'm sure of that.”

“Spencer was young then, he may not have been that mature in his crimes. His recent murders were definitely sexual in nature although he was always able to skillfully erase his tracks.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the vibrations of Gabriel's phone.

“It's the Chief,” he told Harry, picking up on the speakerphone.

“Is the autopsy finished?” their superior asked without preamble. “What are the results?”

“Nothing that’ll help us catch Spencer,” the young Auror replied, disappointed.

A long sigh rose from the device, then Jack said “See you at the office” and hung up.

  
  


Only Harry and Jack had stayed at the Department for lunch, their colleagues preferring to take a short break and get some fresh air, even if it was only for half an hour. The two men were perched on Harry's desk, swallowing a quick meal while discussing the leads to be explored when a hesitant voice was heard.

They turned their heads, and a young man approached them timidly. He must have been in his early twenties. His hair was blonde and he had a deeply sad look in his eyes.

“Excuse me,” he said. “I am Oona Simpson's brother. I was told I could pick up her things here?”

The two Aurors took him a bit aside and sat him down to give him back the victim's bag. Without a word, he opened the bag and began to rummage through it.

“I'm really sorry,” Jack said. “We should have brought it directly to you.”

The young man seemed to have found what he was looking for and took out of the bag a small diary with a pink leather cover. He began to leaf through it.

“At this hour, she should have been meeting her friends for one last lunch in town before going back to school,” he began in a trembling voice. “She was always busy and very sociable. I had offered to apparate with her, but she refused, saying she liked to take the bus. I should have insisted, I should have taken her there myself.”

He started sobbing, covering his eyes with one hand.

“It's not your fault,” the old Auror comforted him. “It's nobody's fault, except the murderer.”

At the same moment, an officer from the neighbouring Section appeared with a small package in his hands.

“What do you want?” Harry abruptly asked.

“I received this by mistake. It's a package for Lieutenant Corner.”

“Just put it on his desk,” he replied, pointing to it, before turning his attention again to the grieving young man.

  
  


In the afternoon, while Liam and Rose continued to study the Muggle authorities' surveillance video footage, Harry and Gabriel went to inspect the area around the crime scene. The young Auror couldn't help but find the surroundings familiar and it was only when he saw the sign with the name of a neighbouring district that his memories came back to him.

“Foxton?” he exclaimed in disbelief.

“What? Do you know this place?”

“Come on, let's go there.”

“Let's go where? To Foxton?” his partner asked, following in his footsteps.

They made their way up the road to an intersection, and Harry took a street that ran alongside a railway line. A little farther on, the roofs of the houses in Foxton's residential area could be seen in the cold fog, the smoke from the chimneys rising gently into the sky. The young Auror stopped on the roadside, joined by his perplexed partner.

“What are we doing here? What is this place?”

“This is where we found your mother, thirty years ago,” Harry whispered.

“What?” Gabriel cried, his eyes widening.

The officer watched the place intensely, his face pensive, while his partner continued to reflect aloud. “It's not far from the field where Oona Simpson was killed. Maybe Spencer came this way too.”

They turned their heads to inspect the surroundings and eventually spotted a camera at the back of a nearby house that overlooked onto the road. They introduced themselves to the Muggles owners as police officers and asked to view the recording as part of an investigation. The Muggles did not ask any more questions and let them into the house.

They were an elderly couple, about eighty years old, and both were slightly hard-of-hearing. In a corner of the living room, richly decorated with objects of all kinds and lace, lots of lace, there was a computer on which the video thread of the camera appeared.

“We use it to monitor the rear access to the garden,” the old man explained to the inspectors. “Our neighbour comes regularly to steal our turnips, and we want to catch her in the act. Without evidence, the police won't do anything. It makes one wonder what the authorities are doing, really.”

“Come now, Arnold, don't bother these young lads. You can see they've got work to do. Show them the film,” his wife ordered, before turning to the Aurors. “Would you like some tea? Some biscuits?”

“Ah, no thank you, madam,” Gabriel politely replied.

“Perfect! I'll go and fetch it right away,” she said cheerfully and disappeared towards the kitchen.

“Rah, that damn thing never works,” the old man grumbled as he tried to open the computer files.

Harry really didn't know enough to help him and wondered if the noises coming from the machine, a kind of repetitive ringing every time the owner pressed a button, were normal. He turned his questioning gaze to his partner who, bent over beside the octogenarian, was trying to show him where to click.

“I think it's this folder, " _CAM 01.17_ " there,” he patiently said, pointing at it.

“If the neighbourhood is quiet? Oh, it comes and goes. Not so much any more, since there are all these young people on mopeds,” the old man replied, continuing to click everywhere but on the right folder, opening and closing a multitude of new windows on the screen.

The Lieutenant glanced helplessly at Harry, obviously asking for his help, but the latter shrugged his shoulders and pretended to ignore him. When he heard the old woman coming back from the kitchen, he turned to her and stepped aside to let her pass with her tray of food.

“It was our grandson who set it all up. He works in the telecom business, Gogole, isn't that right, Arnold? He's a good, lad this one,” she said as she put the tray on the coffee table. “You remind me of him. Here, have a piece of pudding.”

She handed Harry a small plate with a generous piece of cake without letting him time to protest. Gabriel, meanwhile, had finally managed to take control of the mouse and started looking for the desired file.

“Henry,” he called. “I've found it!”

The young Auror approached and they politely asked the couple to give them time to watch the video, which they had to repeat several times before they were finally understood.

The street was dark, barely lit by the scattered lampposts and the rain made visibility bad. The two Aurors spotted a man, dressed in dark clothes with his hood up over his head. He was crouching behind an embankment with his back to the road.

“What is he doing?” Harry asked, puzzled.

“It's hard to tell,” Gabriel replied, squinting.

Suddenly a young woman appeared at the top of the screen and walked along the street, her pastel skirt sticking out in the dark night.

“It's Oona Simpson.”

A few seconds after the girl had left the visual field, the man stood up and walked after her. However, the heavy rain and the distance made it difficult to identify him, even though both investigators were certain it was Spencer. Harry could barely contain the disgust he felt when he observed the suspect.

“We have to go back there,” he said. “We may have missed something.”

An hour, a cup of tea and three pieces of pudding later, they finally managed to leave, thanking the two octogenarians for their cooperation and hospitality.

The winter sun was already starting to descend into the sky, lowering the already cool temperature. The two Aurors retraced the victim's path to the place where she had been killed, inspecting the surroundings carefully until Harry, who was beginning to tire, let out a moan.

“Oh, I've had too much to eat,” he complained, massaging his belly. “I think the pudding disagrees with me.”

“I told you to stop after the first piece. We didn't even know what was in it. I'm sure it's not a cake that's supposed to be crunchy or have hair on it.”

“I definitely felt the taste of sultanas.”

“I don't think there were sultanas in it.”

“Are you sure? It looked a lot like it, though.”

The young Auror continued walking for a few seconds before he noticed that his partner had suddenly stopped.

“What are you doing?” he pathetically whined. “What's the matter?”

“How long do you think that mini-van has been parked there?” the Lieutenant asked, pointing to the vehicle parked a few metres farther down the road.

“How is that useful to us?”

They approached the van and Gabriel let out a “bingo!” in a low voice. Seeing Harry's confused look, he cleared his throat.

“For some years now, the Muggles have been in the habit of installing cameras in their cars. It’s about insurance, or something like that.”

“How clever they are. Does it work for broomsticks?”

“Anyway, it records day and night,” his partner continued, without noting his comment. “Maybe we can see our suspect.”

They found the owner of the vehicle without difficulty, his phone number being on a paper left on the dashboard. As for the elderly couple, they introduced themselves as Muggles detectives and asked to have access to the video of the van.

Harry was crouched near the vehicle, looking pale and holding his stomach, while his partner pushed him with his foot, repeating “watch out, you're going to fall”, when the man arrived a few dozen minutes later. He cleared his throat and the two Aurors quickly recovered, returning to a more professional attitude. The man had brought his laptop with him, which he placed on the bonnet and inserted the camera's memory card.

Gabriel launched the video, selecting the estimated time of the murder. On the screen, the same street appeared from a different angle and the investigators could clearly see a black car parked further away with all lights off. A man approached it and got into it, the same man as in the previous video, and this time, when the Lieutenant pressed pause, his face clearly appeared.

“Spencer,” Harry fumed. “That scumbag. He was there.”

On the large board, the images from the videos were playing in a loop next to the photos and the summarised annotations of the investigation. The four team members stared at it silently with dull eyes, exhausted by the long day and lack of sleep. Standing side-by-side next to their supervisor's desk, Harry and Gabriel were thinking.

“It's just like what happened thirty years ago,” the young Auror whispered.

He was startled as he felt Rose slip silently between them with a cup of tea in her hand. She glanced at them suspiciously.

“What's all this whispering?” she asked. “What are you talking about? Thirty years ago?”

“Yes! Tell us everything!” Liam demanded, sitting at his desk. “Where did you get these surveillance footages?”

The door to the Department opened suddenly and they all turned their heads to watch Jack come in and run towards them.

“A patrol spotted the suspect's car!” he cried. “The Flying Squad will chase him down. We've got to go too! No time to lose!”

There was a moment of silence, just long enough for his words to make sense in their tired minds, then they all moved as one, rushing towards the exit.

Suddenly, a phone rang in the deserted office, the sound slightly muffled. The Aurors stopped and looked at each other, each one checking his pockets to make sure it wasn't his. Harry took a few steps backwards listening intently to try and locate the source of the noise.

“Looks like it comes from that,” he said, pointing to the small package on the Lieutenant's desk.

He took it and stuck it to his ear before turning it over to read the label that read " _For Lieutenant Gabriel Corner_ ".

“Your package is ringing, Gabriel.”

He grabbed it from Harry's hands, inspected it, put it on his desk and opened it with a quick wave of his wand, revealing a new telephone. The officer glanced at his colleagues, who were all watching him with apprehension, and slowly picked up the phone on the loudspeaker.

“Who is this?” he dryly let out.

“How are you, Lieutenant?” replied a hoarse, quiet voice.

“Spencer?”

Harry’s eyes widened, just as those of his colleagues, and everyone moved a little closer to hear the conversation.

“I see you remember my voice.”

“What do you think you're doing? What does it mean?”

“I have something to tell you.”

“Wha-”

“Edinburgh. It wasn't me. I wouldn't want to take credit for someone else's work.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I did kill Oona Simpson, but I'm not guilty about the Edinburgh case.”

“Cut the crap, you-”

“I’ll call you back.”

“Spencer!”

The sound of the dial tone resonated in the quiet office. Harry was the first to speak. “This lunatic calls after committing a murder?!”

“Can we trace the origin of the call?” Jack asked.

“I'll take care of it!” Liam exclaimed, waving to Gabriel to throw the device at him.

Jack's phone started vibrating and he picked it up instantly. “What? Mh. Alright.”

He hung up after a very brief exchange and sighed at length. “It was the Flying Squad. It was a young man without a driving licence who had borrowed his father's car. The number plate had been put on top of the original one.”

“What kind of scumbag does that?” Rose asked disbelievingly. “He replaces the plates, dares to send parcels to the Aurors and calls us?”

“Why did he call you?” Harry asked the Lieutenant. “What was the reason?”

“Do you remember what Professor Wellick said? He called me because of what I told him two years ago.”

“That's ridiculous! He’s just fucking with us!”

“Lieutenant!” Liam intervened. “I found out where the call came from!”

Harry and Gabriel immediately disapparated to the coordinates Liam had given them. They appeared in a dark and silent street, away from the crowded areas. The call came from a public phone booth and, after a thorough inspection, the two Aurors found no clues to locate their suspect.

Harry knew they had no chance of catching him that night; he couldn't help but feel frustrated and angry at being ridiculed in this way by a murderer who was playing them and seemed to enjoy it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am quite pleased with the autopsy scene. I never attended one, but I watched a few videos on YouTube (not for the faint hearted!) and read articles detailing the process, it was really interesting ^^.  
> I may be a bit slow to update next because I haven’t had a lot of time to write lately. I’m a nurse working in ED in France, I think you can guess why I’ve been busy (‘•ᴗ•). I find it hard to write/be inspired when I’m working a lot so I’m not writing as much as I would like. But don’t worry, I’m still very much enjoying this story and I’ll see it through!  
> Anyway, that’s enough blah blah! Hope you liked today’s chapter, thank you so much for reading, and see you soon! ヾ(⌒.⌒)


	13. -13-

As soon as he stepped out of the fireplace, Harry was greeted by a deafening hubbub coming from the crowd gathered in the Ministry Atrium. Surprised, the young Auror wondered for a moment if he had missed a memo on some event organised by one Department or another. He took a quick glance at his watch - he was late and that hadn't changed - and with difficulty he made his way to the lobby, grumbling and insulting anyone who stood in his way. He realised, as he saw the cameras, notebooks and pencils in action, that most of these people were reporters.

Once he had made his way to the Auror Department, not without difficulty, he pushed open the front door and, while looking behind him, asked aloud to no one in particular: “Why are there so many reporters in the Atrium? Who alerted the press?”

Rose grabbed him sharply by the arm before he could continue -not to rant, but- to express himself and motioned for him to be quiet. He gave her a dark, confused look and raised his head to look at the rest of the office which was usually so noisy at this time of the morning, but silent that day.

All the Aurors were standing in a row, solemnly listening to the speech of the Director General of the Auror Department. The latter rarely appeared, preferring to remain pompously cloistered in his large office, located at the other end of Level Two, busy polishing the image of his Department with the high authorities of the Ministry. Harry had little doubt as to the reasons for his visit at the time.

“All the eyes of the Wizarding World are on you today,” the Director said. “I want all the teams in Sections One, Two and Three on the case. Not only will you focus on the investigation, but I also want all cases possibly related to Spencer to be re-examined before you begin the investigation.”

His tone was authoritative and irrevocable, accentuated by his stilted posture and elegant midnight blue robes. He turned to Jack, who stiffened as he felt the man's attention on him. “You mentioned five murders, right?”

“No, Sir,” Gabriel suddenly intervened, his eyes staring straight ahead.

Everybody turned towards him, a wave of whispers crossing the office.

“If you include the one in Edinburgh a few weeks ago, that makes six,” the young officer added, imperturbable.

The Director turned and walked slowly towards him, like a predator approaching its prey.

“Lieutenant Gabriel Corner, is that right?” he asked in a condescending voice. “You're the one who let Donnie Spencer get away. Why would you do such a thing?”

“When he was arrested two years ago, he didn't admit to any of the murders,” Gabriel continued, ignoring the Director's remarks. “I find it strange that he suddenly started calling us and confessing his crimes. He is an excellent liar. Since the methods used are identical, I think we should approach these cases in the same way.”

“Is that what you think?” his superior mused, a slight amused grin appearing on his strict face. “You are an interesting young man. Bring me results. Only then, I won't question your judgment.”

He paused for a few seconds before addressing the rest of the Department again. “I would also like to include Professor James Wellick as a profiler on the investigation team. Chief Sloper, I am counting on you to keep me informed of the progress of the investigation. Is there anyone here who does not know the suspect?”

The Aurors shook their heads, still silent.

“That's what I thought. Then make sure you arrest this man,” he concluded curtly.

After the Director and the rest of his team left, Liam seemed to liquefy on the spot and Rose breathed a sigh of relief.

“Nothing changed, I still can't stand the top brass,” Harry grumbled, hands on hips.

  
  


Jack had given them an hour before they gathered for the meeting, so they had time to look for the necessary files and call Professor Wellick.

Harry was sitting at his desk, next to the Lieutenant who was on the phone, in the middle of a conversation. The young Auror's attention was focused on Kevin; he had discovered that the little plant sometimes grabbed snacks from within reach of his little arms to eat them and he was having fun stealing Rose's various food supplies to give it some. While holding out a crisp to the moss ball, he listened distractedly to his partner's discussion.

“Donnie Spencer called you?” a voice just audible at the other end of the line asked.

“Yes, he did. To lie to us and claim that he is not the murderer in the Edinburgh case. I'm calling to ask you for a favour. I was hoping you could take a look at the autopsy reports of his previous victims. I may have other cases to add, but I will get back to you on that.”

“All right. I'll do what I can. Take care, Lieutenant. I have a bad feeling about the fact that he's suddenly contacting you.”

“I understand. Thank you for your help.”

He hung up and sighed. There was a moment of silence, interrupted by the crunchy sound Kevin made when he swallowed his crisp, and Harry turned to him.

“Who was it?”

“Doctor Adler. I asked him for a favour.”

“You know him well, this coroner, don't you?” the young Auror asked with curiosity.

“He's often helped me in previous investigations,” his partner nodded. “He's an excellent forensic scientist and a good chess partner.”

  
  


The door of the conference room closed and the Aurors sat around the large table, facing the translucent board at the back of the room. Standing next to it, Gabriel began the briefing of the investigation team with ease and authority.

“Our target, Donnie Spencer, is a serial killer who is suspected of killing six women, including his own wife,” the Lieutenant said in a confident voice. “The victim in the first case, which took place in 2009, was Anna Laverty, thirty-six years old at the time.”

With a fluid movement of his wand, he placed the summary information of the investigation on the board alongside the photos of the victim before her death.

“She married Spencer in 1996. In 2009, her parents reported her missing after several days without any contact. Spencer was then heard as a witness and testified that she ran away with a man with whom she was having an affair. It was later confirmed that she was seeing a banker whom she had met at the gym.”

The young officer paused briefly and slipped a new photo of the victim onto the board, dead, and obviously for some time.

“Eight months later, her body was found in an undergrowth in the south of the capital, with a nylon stocking around her neck. Spencer had again been heard, this time as a suspect, but was released for lack of evidence. At the time of the case, there was no evidence linking him to the murder. That's when it all started.”

On the board, photos, memories and information appeared in succession.

“The second victim is Melody Fletcher, twenty-three years old, a magizoology student. The third victim is Lisa Burton, twenty-seven years old, an employee of the Ministry. The murders, which had a similar modus operandi, took place two years apart in the South East London area.”

The next memory Harry had already seen. That of the suspect's white sedan in front of the hospital and a young woman getting into it.

“As the public began to forget about the cases, Spencer left evidence behind for the first time. The fourth victim, twenty-five-year-old Chrissie Fernsby, a Healer at St Mungo. I was the Auror in charge of the investigation. We found a witness who saw the young woman get into a car and we were able to arrest Spencer as a suspect. The murderer seemed to me too bold and too capable, leaving no clues behind, to be a first offender.”

Gabriel let his gaze sweep over the silent and attentive assembly and continued.

“I started looking for cases with the same modus operandi and that's how I discovered that his wife had been killed in a similar manner. I questioned him, but he denied his guilt. As you all know, he ran away when he was transferred to custody. If I had succeeded in arresting him at that time, the next murder wouldn’t have taken place.”

He paused again for a few moments, apparently caught up by the memories of that night, and then resumed his presentation.

“Here is the next victim. Julia Chaplin, twenty-four years old, trainee at Gringotts, found in Edinburgh. The sixth and last, Oona Simpson. Seventeen years old, a Hogwarts student on holiday at her parents' home, found dead two days ago. We can assume that these six murders were committed by Donnie Spencer, considering that all the young women were sexually assaulted, tied up, strangled with nylon stockings. They were all in their twenties except his wife and Oona Simpson. The events also took place in the South East London area.”

“Except for Chaplin. She was found in Edinburgh. This isn’t even close,” an Auror intervened.

“Among the objects found in her coat pockets, the forensic team found a portkey. It was programmed to activate automatically at ten o'clock at night, which explains why the body was found there. She was not far from her home, but was not killed on the spot. All these cases are linked. Professor Wellick also discovered something.”

He motioned to the young professor to stand up and let him speak.

“All the victims were dressed in dresses or skirts,” Wellick said in a neutral tone.

“Is it not natural for women to wear skirts?” an Auror across the table guffawed.

“It must have been miniskirts!” his partner added.

“But weren't they all average looking women?” a third man at their side asked.

“If they weren't, would that have been a good reason to kill them?” Rose intervened, in a voice painted with false curiosity. “Do you think only some women deserve to die?”

The three Aurors didn’t answer, seemingly shrinking under the disapproving glances of their colleagues.

“The fact that they were all dressed similarly could be an essential part of the investigation,” Wellick continued, after a nod to Rose. “If we can find out the reason behind Spencer's obsession with skirts, we can find out more about who he is and why he kills.”

“Maybe because of the anger over his wife's affair?” Liam tried, unsure.

“Do you have an idea in mind, professor?” Jack asked, tapping his index finger on the table thoughtfully.

“Actually, I have something else to share,” he replied.

He turned to Gabriel and nodded. The Lieutenant raised his wand, and new pictures appeared on the board, the three articles in the Daily Prophet dating from 1985. Jack sat up sharply in his chair and let out an expression of surprise.

“These are cases with victims with identical profiles from thirty years ago,” the professor commented. “Three women in their twenties were killed near a south-east London suburb in 1985. Donnie Spencer was living there at the time.”

“These cases... it was…” Jack stammered as he looked at Harry.

Harry nodded and then spoke. “There's something you don't know, though. There were other murders, up until 1986.”

“What?” Wellick asked with surprise, his eyes fixed on the young Auror.

“At that time Donnie Spencer had been interrogated as a suspect,” Harry continued. “He had been released because he had an alibi, but now that I think about it, his parents probably lied.”

“Hey, Rookie!” Rose called him out. “How do you know about the cases from the 80s? You talk about it as if you were involved in it.”

“It's... It's because the Chief told me about it!” he explained hastily, staring at the Chief insistently.

“Yes, that's right! It was my first case as a young recruit! But I find it hard to believe that this high school student is really Donnie Spencer. I always thought the suspect was dead. What happened to Spencer after that?”

“He moved to Aberdeen with his family in 1987,” the Lieutenant replied. “After that, he was hospitalised in the St Mungo Psychiatric ward for eight years. According to his file, he wasn’t particularly mentally ill.”

“But wait, wait,” Jack intervened, interrupting him with a wave of his hand. “If I remember correctly, we were told that Spencer was a Squib. There were traces of spell impacts on the bodies of the victims.”

“His parents had always concealed their son's abilities. No doubt out of fear of his behaviour and fear that he would commit the irreparable at Hogwarts. However, he is indeed a wizard, and he knows how to use certain spells. He even married a witch after his release from the hospital. And now you know the rest.”

“So he left London just after the sixth murder, in 1987,” Jack concludes.

“Considering the fact that he spent the next eight years in an institution, that explains why there were no new cases of young women killed and tattooed during that time. The suspect was not dead,” Harry added, shaking his head.

“So, if I understand correctly, when we were working on the Leg investigation, the case you were telling us was Spencer's?” Liam asked, whose face lit up at this sudden revelation.

“Ah, yes! I remember,” Rose added, nodding frantically. “You were talking about an investigation from thirty years ago. That was it, wasn't it?!”

“The murderer tattooed his victims with dots on their heels,” Jack commented. “Claire Tenenbaum was the fifth victim, but she had survived without our knowledge. After the sixth murder, there were no more new cases. Except for the disappearance of Ha... one of our Aurors. We concluded that the murderer was probably dead.”

“But wait, does that mean he changed his MO?” Rose asked, turning to the professor with a confused look in her eyes.

“It's a possibility,” Gabriel replied before the professor could answer. “It could be in order to destabilise us. We were able to establish a preliminary profile with the information we have.”

“We're dealing with a killer who is both organised and disorganised,” Wellick explained. “Organised, because he’s incredibly meticulous in carrying out his crime, taking care not to leave any trace behind him, which is evidence of preparation. He didn't know the victims and they had no connection to each other, except for their common characteristics: young, white, wearing skirts. They were all tied up and suffered violence before death. However, despite evident sexual assaults, the rapes recorded in the most recent murders were all post-mortem, which is a sign of a disorganised killer, probably sexually incompetent. He remained living close to the scene of his killings after 2009 and has never had stable or qualified employment, which also tips in favour of this profile.”

“Is it possible for a murderer to be both at the same time?” an Auror in the assembly asked.

“Being organised and disorganised is not mutually exclusive. Some famous Muggles killers have these characteristics: John Wayne Gacy, Jeffrey Dahmer or Ted Bundy. An organised killer can become disorganised when he fears he has been spotted by the authorities. The opposite is also true when a disorganised criminal becomes organised and learns to disguise his murders.

“What about the phone call to the Aurors?” a young woman sitting next to Harry said. “Was it an impulsive move?”

“Serial killers, especially those who fall into the category of organised killers, usually follow the media and the way their murders are treated. There are several cases of killers who have exchanged with law enforcement authorities or press in this way. This may be a means of disrupting the investigation or satisfying a narcissistic need. This was the case of the Zodiac, the Son of Sam and the BTK killer, to mention only the best known. In the Wizarding World, we have never had to deal with a murderer who communicated with the Aurors before. Spencer is the first. One thing is certain, in spite of his hospitalization in psychiatry, we have, in front of us, a psychopathic and not psychotic killer.”

“We're going to catch this scumbag,” Jack said as a conclusion to the meeting. “Gabriel, if he contacts you again, I want an immediate report. Unit number one, go interview the families of the victims to make sure that nothing has been omitted from the previous investigations. Unit two, I want statements of testimonies, interrogations and lists of evidence. Do not leave anything out. Mr. Wellick…”

“I am going to go to St Mungo and question the Healer who treated Spencer at the time. It is possible that something may have escaped us.”

  
  


Along the long white corridor leading to the psychiatric wing of St Mungo, Harry walked silently behind the Lieutenant and Professor Wellick, who were immersed in their conversation. The two Aurors had offered to accompany him, curious to learn more about the reasons for Spencer's hospitalisation. They had found the Healer that had treated Spencer, learning that she was still active in the ward, and she had agreed to meet them that day.

Sitting behind her large white desk in the brightly lit room, she patiently confided her memories of her patient to the three attentive men.

“He wasn’t psychotic, he had no visual or auditory hallucinations. In his case, as sometimes it happens, it was his family who had requested institutionalisation against his will. His parents strongly insisted that he had to be hospitalised.”

“Can you tell us why?” Wellick asked, taking notes in his little notebook.

“His mother kept telling me he wasn't sane,” she replied, her clear gaze fixed on her interlocutor. “That he wasn't human, that he shouldn't be let out. I found it hard to understand how a mother could say that her own son wasn't human. But this patient... gave me the answer.”

She remained silent for a few seconds, turning her head towards the window as if to collect her memories and then turned her attention back to the Aurors. “He told me he had killed the dogs out of curiosity. He wanted to know what was inside. But the more he did it, the less pleasure he found in it. Then he said, and I still remember this, that he wondered what it would feel like to kill a human being.”

Harry could well imagine the young Spencer saying these words, the memories of his interrogation, his disinterested attitude and his emotionless voice still clear in his mind.

“He had a sister, a little older than him. One day he tried to strangle her with his hands. He said she liked it because she didn't frown and she smiled. The look in his eyes when he said his words still haunt me,” the Healer added and accompanied her words with a shiver before continuing. “His parents protected him. They never told the Aurors and preferred to have him institutionalized to keep him away from his sister. He never had a single visit during his eight years in hospital. He turned twenty here and was released when he was almost thirty.”

“Did he ever talk about women in skirts?” the young professor asked. “Perhaps when mentioning his mother or sister?”

“I'm not sure. After that first therapy session, he never spoke much.”

“Would it be possible to have your memories of your interviews with him?” the Lieutenant asked, thus concluding their interview.

  
  


Leaving Professor Wellick to return to the office alone, Harry and Gabriel then paid a quick visit to the family of Spencer's deceased wife. Sitting on the flowery beige and caramel coloured sofa in the living room, which walls were covered with shelves full of various trinkets, the two Aurors listened to the deceased's sister talk about Spencer.

The relationship between Spencer and his wife had at first seemed idyllic, but it gradually turned into a nightmare as his true personality was revealed, until finally the young woman gave no more news to her family. While the woman was speaking, her mother was sitting in an armchair in front of them, silently, almost religiously, leafing through a photo album. However, the investigators did not learn anything new or useful.

Thanking the two women for their hospitality, Gabriel stopped on the doorstep on his way out and turned towards the sister who had accompanied them.

“If anything comes to mind, any detail, any idea of where Spencer used to go or might have hidden, let us know immediately,” he asked before bidding her goodbye.

The sun was already beginning to set, and Harry tightened his jacket around him, shivering, imitated by his partner. They had barely taken a few steps out of the small garden when the partner's phone started to ring.

“It's Spencer's phone,” he said, meeting his partner's eyes. “Can you trace this number?”

The young Auror nodded and tried to remember the spell that Liam had taught him, allowing him to trace the location of the call. At his side, Gabriel had picked up the phone with furrowed brows.

“What do you want this time?” he said abruptly.

“I was just wondering if you were doing your homework diligently, Lieutenant,” the raspy voice of the criminal answered.

“What homework? Speak clearly.”

“I wonder how long it will take you to get here. One, two, …”

“What do you want from me-”

“Three.”

The call was ended and followed by the dial tone.

“Hey!”

“Did he hang up?” Harry asked, looking at his partner who was still staring furiously at the phone in his hand. “I've got the address! It's on Bilton Road, in Erith's neighbourhood.”

They disaparated immediately and found themselves in a deserted street, in front of a small building whose illuminated windows gave a glimpse of the inhabitants going about their business, unaware of the presence of a killer in their neighbourhood. Harry immediately spotted a phone booth across the street and signalled to Gabriel. They came forward to inspect it, but were interrupted by the phone ringing again.

“Spencer?” asked Harry to his partner as he took the call over the speakerphone.

The two Aurors frantically scanned the street in the hope of locating the suspect, who must have been watching them.

“Are you in Bilton Road?” Spencer's unpleasant voice mocked. “Next time I'll count to ten. You shouldn't have provoked me, Lieutenant. Keep up the good work. I'll keep in touch.”

He hung up without waiting for the officer's answer, and the two young men shouted a torrent of insults on the phone, although they knew he couldn't hear them. This was not the case with one of the local residents who opened his window, visibly annoyed, and told them to get out of there, “you hooligans, or else I'll call the police!”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun writing the profile of the killer but, oh boy, was that a lot of hard work! And I'm not even sure it's accurate or could be a real profile... heh.  
> That's the last chapter I have that's complete and edited, the next one is still missing some details, but I'm working on it!  
> Take care and see you soon!


	14. -14-

Two days later, the teams were busy both inside and outside the Ministry, scouring every corner of the capital and the surrounding area looking for clues as to the whereabouts of their suspect. The Auror Department was bustling with the discussions between investigators, their comings and goings, and the incessant ballet of memos flying from one workstation to another.

Standing in front of the large transparent board, Jack gave a quick recap of the situation in front of a map of south-east London. Sitting at their respective desks, the members of his team listened to him with relative attention.

“The red dots show where the bodies of the victims have been found,” the old Auror commented, lighting them up with the tip of his stick. “The blue dots are where Spencer made the phone calls from. This means he is hiding somewhere in this area.”

“By the way,” Harry interrupted him with a wave of his hand. “If you add one more dot, right there, it could be the Big Dipper.”

His superior's reaction was too quick; he didn't see the pinching spell coming, and it almost made him tip over from his chair with a little cry of pain.

“Tsk. No humour,” he mumbled, massaging his painful side under the mocking gaze of his colleagues.

Suddenly a phone ringed, bringing them out of their torpor, and they all straightened up, on the alert.

“Ah, it makes me nervous every time it rings, now!” Liam exclaimed dramatically, with a hand on his chest.

The Lieutenant quickly looked at his phone and shook his head, signaling to his teammates that it wasn't Spencer.

“Doctor?” he said after picking up the phone. “I was about to call you. Okay, I see. We're on our way.”

Still on the phone, he stood up, looked at Harry and grabbed him by the collar of his jacket to get him to follow him. The young Auror didn’t resist, having to squirm to grab his colourful coat while he was being dragged out. Their three colleagues watched them leave in silence. Rose waved goodbye to the young man, who answered in kind, looking a little lost.

“They are inseparable now,” she said with a slight smile and a distant look. “I'm predicting a wedding in the autumn.”

“Really?” Liam asked, doubtful. “I think it's a miracle they're not trying to kill each other anymore. Maybe you're getting a little too far ahead when thinking of their relationship, aren't you?”

“Shhh,” she said, beckoning him to shut up. “Let me speculate in peace. I know I'm right.”

She turned to the board in front of which Jack was busy tracing the Big Dipper with his wand and rolled her chair over to him before pushing him unceremoniously with a “move a little, Chief, I can't see anything.”

Dr. Adler had arranged for the two Aurors to meet him in his office, located next to the forensic department where they used to go so often. It was the first time the young Auror had ever been there and he had to admit that the room seemed to suit the forensic scientist's personality. A bookcase was built into one of the walls, filled with books perfectly arranged by size and colour. There was order. Everything was clean and tidy, not a single object seemed to stick out and, to be honest, this made Harry uncomfortable as he was more inclined towards disorder and chaos.

Sitting behind his mahogany desk, the doctor took several photographs from a file, those of the body of the young woman found in Edinburgh, and slid them in front of the two Aurors sitting opposite him.

“These are the photographs I retrieved from the coroner who performed the autopsy. The other bodies were found in various states of decomposition, so we can't be sure, but this body is different.”

Gabriel raised his head towards him with an interrogative look.

“As I have already told you, Oona Simpson was repeatedly strangled with a stocking, hence the traces of blood congestion around her neck,” Adler continued. “But Julia Chaplin was killed in a single move.”

“What does that mean?” the Lieutenant asked, frowning.

“Either the culprit had a need to kill her immediately, or there is the possibility that the murderer was someone else. Please don't touch that,” he added to Harry's intention as the latter set out to mix the perfectly arranged fountain pens in their jar right in front of him.

The young Auror apologised to him and then turned to his partner. They remained silent, pensive and worried for a few moments. Gabriel suddenly moved back into his chair and took some folded sheets out of the inside pocket of his jacket and handed them to the Doctor.

“What do you think of this? These are articles found in the Daily Prophet from 1985, about cases that seem similar.”

The man accepted them by staring at him briefly before starting to read them. After a few minutes, he spoke.

“Are you saying that he killed someone thirty years ago?”

“Yes, that's what we think,” the officer agreed. “When this happened, Spencer was living nearby. The M.O. and the victims are also similar. It would have been easier if the files hadn't been destroyed, and we can only rely on the recollections of our superior.”

“I don't know,” the forensic scientist finally said. “Just because they were strangled with stockings, it doesn't necessarily mean that the murderer is the same person. Spencer kills for no specific reason.”

“This scum also killed for no reason thirty years ago,” Harry replied, annoyed by the Doctor's condescending attitude.

“And how do you know that?” the Doctor asked him with a slight grin on his lips. “I'll try to find someone in the forensic department who can help you,” he said, when the young Auror didn’t answer. “I'll question the doctor who performed Chaplin's autopsy again.”

The morning was drawing to a close, and Harry was enjoying a well-deserved respite in the break room with his team. Comfortably seated in his armchair with a steaming cup of coffee in front of him, he was focused on his task of peeling a banana.

“May I take your jacket, sir?” he asked aloud, laughing softly.

“Do you really think no one can hear you, Henry?” Rose asked who had been watching him for some time, sitting opposite him.

“What are you doing, Lieutenant?" Liam asked, dropping down into the couch next to the officer.

“Mh,” the latter answered distractedly without looking up from his phone, which seemed to take all his attention.

“What's he doing?” Rose asked with the curiosity of a concierge. “I bet he's consulting documents related to the investigation. He's too focused on work to do anything else. Or maybe he-”

“He is playing _Pix-Hit_ ,” his partner interrupted, leaning towards Gabriel to try to get a glimpse of the screen. “He makes an excellent score by the way! He's almost as good as your cousin, Rose!”

“What?” he suddenly blurted, straightening his head and hiding his phone. “No, not at all, I-”

“What's _Pix-Hit_?” Harry intervened around a bite of banana.

“Oh, it's that trendy game where you have to face an invasion of Cornish Pixies, it's super addictive, you'd better not try it,” the young woman explained before turning her attention to the officer. “So our Lieutenant is not so obsessed with work... Is it what you really do when you sit alone at your desk pretending to read files?” she inquired, squinting and sporting a knowing smile.

“It's ridiculous. Of course not,” the officer tried to defend himself before looking at the clock. “Oh, my goodness. It's already one o'clock. It's time to get back to work.”

He had just got up when an Auror burst into the small room.

“There is an urgent call for Lieutenant Corner, chimney number two,” he hurriedly said before turning round and leaving.

Harry hastily followed his partner, swallowing the rest of his lunch as they made their way across the Department to the three chimneys that were used only for calls. In the middle chimney, between the green flames was the head of Spencer's late wife's sister.

“I remembered something,” she said after exchanging a few courtesies with Gabriel and Harry. “It may have been trivial, but I remember that my sister and Donnie were planning to move out of their home to a flat in a building that was under construction at the time. It was located in a developing neighbourhood, not far from Diagon Alley.”

Harry and Gabriel, determined not to ignore any leads, went to the neighbourhood in question, located between Spitalfields and Shoreditch. The young Auror was immediately struck by the dilapidated state of the buildings, giving the image of an almost abandoned place. This impression was not entirely distorted, as he noticed that most of the buildings were empty and some were already being renovated. Between the scaffolding and rubble were a few detached houses, lost in the maze of narrow streets that accentuated the chaotic aspect of the district.

“This was a neighbourhood that was developing thirty years ago and now, it’s already undergoing renovation work,” the Lieutenant commented as he looked around. 

“Do you really think Spencer is hiding here?” Harry asked, jumping up and down on the spot, not so much to warm up as to exhaust his overflow of energy coming from his frustration with the stagnation of the investigation.

“He has the nerve to call the Aurors. He is the kind of man who likes to be seen. He is probably hiding in a visible place. I would be surprised if he is here.”

“I don't care what kind of guy he is. I think it's the perfect place to hide. Let's go and search this area,” the young Auror said impatiently before moving away with a quick step.

“Hey, Henry, wait. Come back here, you tiny little menace!” Gabriel called out to his partner, chasing after him.

They walked up the main street and inspected the empty houses, taking care to remain as discreet as possible. The shards of tile and other debris that littered the ground cracked under their cautious steps. They arrived in front of a house that slightly overhung the street and, after climbing the outside stairs, entered the main room of the dwelling.

At first it looked completely empty, but as he was about to leave, Harry saw a mattress with a sleeping bag on it. Next to it was a small gas stove, a dented saucepan and a pile of newspapers. As he leafed through them, he realised they were recent editions of the Daily Prophet.

“Hey, Gabriel!” he called eagerly, invigorated by this discovery.

His partner joined him and grabbed one of the newspapers from an upside down crate that served as a makeshift table.

“That's today's edition!” he exclaimed, looking at Harry.

The young Auror continued his inspection and found two small cardboard boxes on the mattress. They both had the same shipping label as the one that had contained the telephone Spencer had sent to the Lieutenant, the one from a bookseller who didn't exist.

“He was there until this morning. I was right. Call Jack, we're going to get him today!”

In the span of twenty minutes, the Aurors had completely invaded the neighbourhood and were waiting for the suspect's return, perfectly concealed. Harry and Gabriel were standing on the balcony of the house opposite, protected by a dilapidated screen.

“He'll show up eventually,” Harry whispered after more than two hours of waiting.

“Will you please not slump down on my back with all your weight?” Gabriel mumbled as he tried to push him away.

His phone rang suddenly, startling the two Aurors.

“Ooh! That scared me!” the younger one exclaimed, straightening up sharply. “Don't you want to turn it off? We're going to be caught!”

“It's my father, I'll call him back later,” the officer replied, putting the device back in his pocket after ignoring the call.

Suddenly Harry spotted a man walking down the street, his hood up, hiding his face. He suddenly pulled the front of his partner's shirt down to get him to duck with him. The officer lost his balance and bumped into the screen, causing it to shake slightly. The man had stopped right in front of the door of Spencer's alleged dwelling with one hand on the handle and didn't move. Harry and Gabriel leaned over slightly to get a better view when their suspect suddenly turned around. He started to run, starting again from the direction he was coming from.

“Hey!” Harry cried.

Without wasting a minute, he jumped over the balcony fence and landed on a dumpster. He then jumped to the ground to chase the fugitive, imitated by his partner. Harry ran after him with his wand in his hand through the maze of alleyways that made precise Apparition impossible. His spells crashed against the facades of abandoned houses, throwing debris and dirt in their path. In front of him, the criminal fought back but repeatedly failed to hit him.

“Woah!” the young Auror shouted, avoiding a red light. “Wait a bit, you'll see! I'll make you bite the dust!”

Between two breaths and an incantation, Harry did not deprive himself of the opportunity to insult the suspect, giving free rein to his creativity and vulgarity. Their frantic race took them through basements and ground floors, cluttered terraces and slippery stone stairs. Harry quickly lost his bearings, focused solely on his objective. Right, right, left, right, left, each building looked like the previous one, each street was identical to the next.

The low walls encountered along the way did not seem to bother the fugitive who jumped over them with ease. He was agile and in good physical shape. Harry was not to be outdone, but his short stature slowed him down and he could barely climb the highest walls.

The young Auror let himself fall back across one of these walls, puffing loudly. Suddenly he saw Gabriel, who was on the other side of a building, through the doorway of what had once been a door. After giving him a quick wave of his hand, he resumed his chase. At the bend in the road, he almost collided with an Auror running in the opposite direction. He turned his head sharply and spotted the suspect who had snuck out of a house window and into the backyard.

His partner appeared at the end of the alley and waved at him, showing his mobile phone in his hand.

“Oh yeah. That's clever,” Harry exclaimed. He took his out of his pocket as he rushed after the fugitive.

He found him quickly and took advantage of a straight line to take the time to aim. After gaining enough momentum, he threw his phone as hard as he could. The phone hit the man in the head with a loud “ _thud_!” and he stumbled with a scream of pain.

“Strike!” Harry shouted as he raised his arms as he could hear his partner yelling “no! You bloody idiot!” in the distance.

It wasn't enough to stop the fugitive, but it did slow him down. The young Auror managed to catch up with him. He raised his wand. He was finally going to stop him. He could feel it. He had him in his sights. One last insult, a _Stupefy_ on the tip of his lips. Suddenly, the suspect made a quick wand movement and a pile of rubbish lying on the side, including a mattress, rose into the air. Harry had barely had time to raise his head and see the pile of rubbish floating in the air for a moment before it fell back on him.

It took him a few minutes of intense effort and a lot of swearing to get out from under the heavy mattress. Once out in the open air, he dusted off the trash that stuck to his clothes and realized that he had completely lost sight of the suspect.

He continued to run in short strides down the alley and found Gabriel at the first intersection. The officer was out of breath and glanced in disgust at the sight of his colleague's condition. They walked down the main street together, frantically scanning every corner, but they had to face the fact that the criminal was gone.

It only took a few minutes for the whole neighbourhood to swarm with Aurors, busy inspecting every nook and cranny in the hope of getting their hands on the suspect. Harry, for his part, was furious. He had come so close, he almost had him. He cast a _Reducto_ at the mattress that had ruined everything, exploding it with satisfaction in a cloud of soggy white cloth and foam.

“When you've finished destroying innocent things,” Gabriel began once he got to his side, dodging a piece of spring. “Can you explain to me why you threw your phone at him?”

“I don't know!” Harry replied, raising his arms to the sky. “I thought that was what you wanted me to do!”

“I was trying to call you! I wanted you to pick up the phone!”

“I thought maybe there was a hidden feature to catch a runner. They do so many things, these phones, it could have been a possibility.”

“Even so, you're a wizard! Why didn't you use your wand?!”

“It slipped my mind for a moment, okay?” the young Auror replied, pouting.

Seeing his partner's gaze as he was about to answer, he hailed an agent who was passing by.

“And don’t tell me it never happened to anyone before!”

The officer glanced at them both frightened and confused, and the Lieutenant shrugged his shoulders while shaking his head, signaling the agent to ignore his visibly disturbed partner. In the midst of the commotion around them, the two Aurors almost missed the ringing of the telephone that rose from the inside pocket of Gabriel's jacket.

Waving to Harry to shut up as he continued to shout loudly, the officer picked up the phone.

“I told you to leave me alone, Lieutenant,” Spencer's hoarse voice warned without a preamble.

“Donnie,” Gabriel hissed. “Where are you? Where are you hiding?”

“Are you that anxious to see another dead body? Maybe the one of your ravishing co-worker?”

“What?” Harry cried, grabbing the phone over his partner's hand. “What does that mean? Answer, you scum!”

His hoarse laugh was the only answer before the call was cut off. The young Auror looked up and met his partner's wide-eyed gaze. They immediately began to move, scanning their surroundings frantically.

“Rose! Where's Rose?!” Gabriel cried as he grabbed a colleague nearby. “Go get Auror Granger-Weasley!”

The young woman appeared a few minutes later, confusion painting her features, visibly looking well.

“What's the matter? Are you looking for me?”

“It's nothing,” Harry reassured her by patting her shoulder, relieved. “We just wanted to make sure you had the situation under control on your side, with Liam.”

As she answered him, the young Auror was suddenly overcome with a strange feeling. It began with a slight ringing in his ears, and he tried to chase it away with a sharp shaking of his head. He had the impression of feeling the ground slipping away from under his feet and a moment later the street around him had completely disappeared. He squinted his eyes, dazzled by the sudden whiteness and turned his head sharply to look around him, confused. It didn't last more than a few seconds, and then the world turned upside down again.

Sitting on the floor, leaning against a low wall, the young man blinked repeatedly in an attempt to remove the blur from his vision.

“Henry!” Rose's voice shouted, sounding far away. “Henry! Stay with us!”

“What happened?” Harry asked in a slurred voice.

“You seem to have had a slight absence,” Gabriel replied, crouching down in front of him with a preoccupied look on his face. “You looked completely lost and kept asking where you were.”

“Here, eat this,” Rose ordered, handing him some sugar cubes. “It will do you good.”

He accepted them without hesitation and stuck the little cubes in his mouth.

“Why do you have sugar in your pockets?” Gabriel asked curiously.

“Because,” she answered, nodding her head very seriously.

Eight pieces of sugar later, Harry felt sharper and slightly queasy, and the incident was soon forgotten when Jack was informed of Spencer's threat against Rose.

That evening, the Aurors escorted her home and made sure that the protection spells placed on her property were effective. When they were satisfied, Harry and Gabriel wished her good night and both found themselves on her doorstep.

“It's not that late,” Harry commented, looking at his watch. “I don't know about you, but I could use a drink after this rotten day.”

Harry certainly hadn't expected Gabriel to invite him home. The Lieutenant had accepted his offer, but had made it clear that he was not in the mood to go out to the pub. His flat was, to young Auror's surprise, welcoming and warm. He had never really thought about it, but if he had been asked, Harry would probably have said that his partner was living in a modern flat, made of grey and glass, probably as cold as his personality. He couldn't have been more wrong.

Sitting on a soft sofa in the living room heated by the roaring fire of an old fireplace surrounded by light-coloured wood panelling, Harry enjoyed his hot cup of coffee while watching the place with interest. Sitting on the floor facing him, his partner seemed lost in thought. The comfortable silence was broken by small knocks on the door. When Gabriel returned to the living room a few moments later, he was accompanied by James Wellick.

“Jack called me,” he told them, once they were all seated. “I went to see Rose to see if she was all right and it seems I only missed you by a few minutes.”

The discussion quickly turned to the events of the day and the main topic that they were all obsessed with, Donnie Spencer.

“Why did Spencer say he didn't kill Chaplin?” the Lieutenant finally asked.

“That's my question exactly!” Harry intervened, waving his index finger.

“I think it's strange, too,” James replied. “Spencer has never admitted his crimes until now.”

“What did you find strange?” Gabriel asked.

“He called you to start a game with him, but what he said was curious,” the young professor said thoughtfully. “When a criminal confesses or confides, to gain credibility, he always tells the truth about at least one thing. He said he had killed Oona Simpson, but not the Edinburgh victim. One of these two statements must be true. If the first is true and the second is not, then he did kill the two young women…”

“But if the first is false and the second is true, then it means he has killed neither of them,” Gabriel replied. “That’s not possible.”

“Oh, I think you've lost me,” Harry mumbled, caught up with fatigue. “I'm going home before I can't get off this couch.”

He put his money where his mouth was and stood up with an exaggerated sigh.

“Thanks for the coffee, it wasn't good,” he said, walking over the Lieutenant's legs.

The latter rolled his eyes and pushed him, wishing him a good night before resuming his conversation with James.

“He can thank me tomorrow. I can tell there’s something going on with those two, and if I’m wrong, my name isn't Harry Potter," the young Auror whispered with a smile as he readjusted his coat around his shoulders in the cold night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have now the whole story plan written, it will be 25 chapters long (give or take one). Now, I just have to actually write it!  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!  
> See you soon!


	15. -15-

The young woman tried in vain to struggle, her bound hands weakly pushing him away as he tightened his grip around her delicate neck. Despite the darkness, he could see her mouth opening, but no sound came out of it. At times, her white teeth reflected the glow of the moon above their heads. He felt the final jolt that shook his victim's body before it relaxed completely. He let his hands slide down her throat and then stood up, panting, savouring the exhilaration of the act.

His gaze wandered over his surroundings, still and silent, undisturbed by the events. The moon projected its soft milky light on the small park, which had no other source of light, which the man was perfectly at ease with. It was not the kind of place he was used to, a playground so close to a residential area, but it only added to the excitement.

He turned his attention back to the young woman and bent down to place her arms above her head. Her body was lying in the small blue slide in the middle of the playground and only her legs were sticking out. He crouched down in front of her. She had only one shoe on her foot. The other had gotten lost while she was struggling. With confident gestures, he took it off her foot and retrieved the pair and put them next to the structure. His eyes settled back on the woman’s face and he made a pensive sound.

“They're wrong, you know,” he said aloud. “I don't kill for no reason.”

The man took a pen out of his jacket pocket, slowly unscrewed the cap and grabbed his victim's left foot. He diligently traced eight dots in black ink that the moon made shimmer for a moment before it dried on the skin.

When he was satisfied with the result, he put away his pen and then spotted a small red and white packet coming out of the young woman's handbag, thrown a little farther down on the earthen floor. He grabbed it, opened it and took out a cigarette. Raising his eyebrows with appreciation, he slipped it between his lips and lit it with his wand. He inhaled a puff of nicotine-laden smoke and then slowly exhaled, taking time to admire his work.

Because it was work, indeed. He had spotted the young woman one evening in a street not far from the Leaky Cauldron, and had spent several days following her, keeping track of her journeys, observing her every move until he decided to take action. It had taken time and effort. He knew she was a student, but did not know her name. Every night she would sit on one of the swings in the playground and smoke a cigarette, sometimes with one or more friends, often alone. Just as she did that day.

He thought about how the Aurors would react when they discovered her body and let out a burst of laughter in a cloud of smoke. The Aurors. Especially the Lieutenant and his idiot partner, he was amused to see them running around like roosters with their heads cut off. What was less amusing, however, was that he was compared to Donnie Spencer.

“I'm not like that degenerate Spencer,” he said abruptly as he looked at his victim's face. “I don't kill for no reason. You know what you've done to deserve this. They all knew it.”

Without a hurry, the man finished his cigarette and got up. He took one last look at his work and walked away, disappearing into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very small chapter today, sorry about that!  
> But now that the story is complete, I’ll try to update more frequently!  
> Anyway, we have now two serial killers for the price of one! Isn’t it exciting ? ^^


	16. -16-

Harry apparated discreetly behind a newsstand, still closed at that time. A few seconds later, Gabriel and James Wellick joined him. The damp cold of the dawn surprised him, and he put his hands under his arms, then he followed his partner's steps as he walked towards the playground a little farther on. At first sight, the place seemed deserted, almost frozen in the morning stillness only disturbed by a few passers-by too much in a hurry to spare a glance to the Aurors.

However, once past the magical barrier that protected the small park from the Muggles' view, the three young men were able to observe their colleagues who were already busy at the scene of the crime. The victim's bare legs were sticking out of the small blue slide, her shoes were perfectly aligned next to her and her handbag was hanging on the small plastic structure.

Harry approached slowly. Little by little, the young woman's body appeared to him, hidden inside the slide. He noticed her clothes, a grey skirt and a long black coat. Then her face, her terrified eyes, wide open, as well as her mouth. Her hands were tied and placed above her head and a piece of cloth around her neck. The young Auror didn't even have to guess that it was a stocking.

He let his gaze slip towards the legs and feet of the victim and then suddenly crouched down. His sudden movement attracted the attention of his team-mates who approached him. Harry cast a protective spell on himself before inspecting the young woman's left foot, on which he had spotted the now familiar tattoo. Eight dots drawn in black ink on the pearly skin of the heel. Gabriel bent down beside him, his eyes glued to her leg.

“Henry, these are…” 

“Dots,” the young Auror nodded with a serious face. “This madman left his mark again after killing. It's you, Spencer, you scum, isn't it?” he asked rhetorically.

“Wait,” the Lieutenant said, patting his arm. “Why are there eight dots?”

An unpleasant feeling of déjà vu seized Harry, leaving a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. He was getting more than tired of this killer who played them as easily as if they had been novices. He swallowed before answering in a weary voice.

“That means there is another victim somewhere. A corpse or a survivor…”

“Another victim?” the Lieutenant whispered cautiously. “As if that wasn't enough…”

“Strange, isn't it?” Professor Wellick intervened calmly as he approached. “I have never seen these marks in other cases. Has his modus operandi changed again?”

“No,” Harry replied, shaking his head. “He simply remembered the past. He didn't think anyone would remember, considering it's been thirty years.”

He stood up, imitated by his partner, and raised his head to the sky.

“I couldn't stop him thirty years ago,” he murmured. “I'm going to make sure I catch him this time.”

The young Auror was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of approaching footsteps behind him, and he turned his head along with Gabriel and James. The three men were surprised to see Dr. Adler walking towards them with his cream-coloured Healer robes tightly pulled around his shoulders.

“Doctor?” Gabriel greeted, perplexed. “What brings you here?”

“I've come for the removal of the body,” the interested party replied, observing the scene with interest.

The coroner let out a small exclamation of surprise and pointed at the victim's foot.

“There are some on this body too?” he said with astonishment.

“Are you talking about the marks?” Harry asked impatiently, hands on hips.

“Yes,” he answered. “I was going to call you this morning, before I heard about this new case. I've got the notes from the coroner who took care of the Edinburgh victim. There is one detail that is not in the report because it is not related to the cause of death. Julia Chaplin had a tattoo on her heel, seven dots drawn in black ink.”

“Then Julia Chaplin was the seventh victim…” Harry murmured thoughtfully.

“I checked the notes of the colleagues who handled Spencer's other cases, just in case. There was no mention of points for those cases. Only Chaplin was marked. And now this one too… As I told you, I think-”

“Could there be a different suspect for these cases?” James interrupted, turning to the Healer.

“That's exactly what I think,” the latter replied.

“What kind of nonsense is this? Doctor, you're just saying that because you don't know this scum!”

“I agree with Henry,” Gabriel added. “The killer has to be Spencer.”

“I think you're the only one who agrees with me,” the coroner said, turning to James. “But you're… ?”

“Professor James Wellick, a consultant in magico-sociology and criminal psychology,” the academic answered by reaching out his hand. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. ?”

“Doctor Nicholas Adler.”

The presentations were interrupted by the hasty arrival of Jack, Rose and Liam at the crime scene. The old Auror sighed long after seeing the body of the young woman and pinched his nose in frustration.

“Did this happen because we let him get away yesterday?” he snapped before turning to his team. “Are we really Aurors? Do we have the right to call ourselves that when we are unable to prevent these murders?”

Harry silently avoided his reproving gaze, equally angry and ashamed of their incompetence and saw his colleagues reacting in the same way.

The Aurors spent the next few hours inspecting the surroundings and interviewing possible witnesses. Harry was facing the young man who had called the Aurors that morning.

“I passed by here after my jog. At first I thought it was a mannequin lying there,” he said in a trembling voice, obviously still in shock.

“Didn't you see it the first time you passed by?”

“I… I don't remember. It was still dark.”

The young Auror thanked him and then turned to watch the forensic team taking pictures of the scene and gathering clues. He wandered around the small park for a few minutes, finally bent down to grab the victim's wallet and pulled out her student card.

“Nineteen-year-old Victoria Decker” he read out loud. “Apprentice potioneer at the Magical Institute of Higher Studies.”

When they went to her house, it was her mother who opened the door, greeting Harry and Gabriel in her dressing gown, her face drawn and her hair gathered in a messy ponytail.

“Who are you?” she asked abruptly.

The two Aurors presented their insignia and before they could speak, she sighed and turned inwards.

“Has she caused any more trouble? Vicky!” she called in a tired tone. “Victoria Decker! Come here right now!”

“Victoria…” Harry started slowly. “She can't answer you.”

“What's that?”

She invited them to sit around the small kitchen table and served them a cup of coffee before sitting down in front of them, her face void of expression.

“I thought she was home,” she said in a blank voice. “She was supposed to see some friends last night. I went to bed early. It happens a lot. Usually, she always comes home without me noticing.”

When she finally broke down in tears in front of them, Harry felt a dull rage bubbling inside him and cursed himself for the umpteenth time for his incompetence.

The press, too, had wasted no time in pointing out the apparent inability of the Aurors to solve the cases that were keeping the Wizarding Society of the United Kingdom on tenterhooks. The investigators were reprimanded at length by the Director of the Department, furious after the recent setbacks of his teams.

Once the man left, the silence in the department was broken by Liam when he blew his nose in his hideous pale pink handkerchief.

“We're detectives, not funeral directors,” he complained, sniffing loudly. “I'm tired of seeing corpses piling up, smelling them…”

“I'm fine, my nose is blocked,” Rose intervened, stepping back into her chair and crossing her hands at the back of her head.

“If you've had enough, go and catch him then,” Jack angrily snapped. “What do we really know about him? Besides the fact that he's a killer? Do we have any clues that will lead us to his hiding place?”

“We can go and visit his parents,” Harry suggested. “His face is plastered everywhere. Where could he go? He must be hiding in a familiar place. Or someone might be helping him.”

“Do we know where they are? His sister too?” his superior asked.

“His father is dead,” Gabriel replied. “His sister lives in the United States, but his mother is still in London. Unit Two already interviewed her a few days ago, without much result. With what happened yesterday, it might be worth going back to see her.”

“Good. Gabriel and Harry, go ahead,” Jack ordered.

“I'm going to see if I can find his former co-workers, friends, acquaintances, with Rose,” Liam sniffed.

But first, Harry and Gabriel made a quick stop to St Mungo. They passed two Aurors from the Department in the corridor waiting to be called to attend the autopsy of the victim. After greeting them, they knocked on the door of the forensic team's office and were received by a technician who led them to Dr. Adler, who was busy preparing the surgery room.

“I haven't started the autopsy yet,” he flatly informed them.

“We know,” Gabriel replied. “We just have a question about the marks on the heel. Do you have any idea what was used to draw them?”

“Looking at the size and shape, I would maybe say a tattoo needle. Or he might have used a pen, something like this fountain pen,” he said, taking one from his pocket as an example.

“A fountain pen?” Harry scoffed. “Seriously? We didn't ask you to tell us bullshit, either.”

“Hey, don’t be rude,” his partner warned, giving him an angry look.

“Yeah, well, he could at least make the effort to say things that make sense, couldn't he? Never mind, forget it. You told us that you could have the ink on Claire Tenenbaum's leg analysed.”

“I did say that. Why do you ask?” the Healer asked curiously.

“If we find out what type of ink it is, we can trace the company that produced it,” Harry explained. “We can't leave anything to chance to track this nutcase out of his hole.”

“Alright,” the coroner said, nodding slowly. “So you're really convinced it's Donnie Spencer's doing, then?”

“Why do you keep asking that?” Harry grumbled.

“As Professor Wellick also said, the last two murders could well have been committed by different suspects. Criminal psychology is not my specialty, but a crime committed by the same person should be similar. Even according to the forensic teams, there is some doubt about the culprit. One victim is marked, the other is not. What do you think, Lieutenant?”

“I disagree. It's the same murderer,” the officer said in an emphatic tone. “I could be the reason why he started drawing dots again.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Dr. Adler, blinking quickly, visibly confused.

Gabriel approached chairs stacked in a corner of the room with an _Accio_ and signalled the doctor to sit down. Harry preferred to stand and began to walk around the room pretending to inspect it.

“You asked me why I was so anxious to apprehend Spencer,” the Lieutenant said in a serious tone.

The coroner nodded without saying a word, attentive.

“To tell you the truth, my mother… Was the victim of a serial killer thirty years ago.”

“What?” his interlocutor blurted with his eyes wide open.

“That's why I became Auror. I wanted to make sure I was the one who would stop my mother's murderer. I wanted to see with my own eyes what the person who kills innocent people in this way looks like. This man is Donnie Spencer. I am sure of it.”

“How is that possible?” the coroner whispered, still in shock.

“Spencer's M.O. changed after his arrest two years ago. The reason he changed the way he hid the bodies and started marking the victims again is probably because during his interrogation I reminded him of a forgotten memory.”

“Wait a minute. If that was the case, we would have found dots on Oona Simpson's body.”

“I guess we'll know more when we catch this scum,” Harry interrupted from across the room.

The young Auror, however, could not help but think of the words of the Healer, as well as those of James. What if they were right, and another killer was on the loose? No, that was absurd. One serial killer was horrible enough to imagine, he thought, shaking his head.

  
  


The street in which the two Aurors apparated after their visit to St Mungo was very lively. In front of the large gate of the property where they had to go, a crowd of journalists was gathered and all were trying to call out to a middle-aged woman who was shouting at them, broomstick in hand. Shouts were coming from all sides, creating a cacophony that echoed throughout the neighbourhood.

“Go away, you bunch of vultures!” the woman cried, accompanying her words with a violent sweeping motion.

“Are you in contact with your son?!”

“I don't have a son! How many times do I have to say it?”

“How do you feel about these murders?”

“This monster is not my son! He is not my son!”

“Do you have anything to declare?”

“Leave me alone! Get away from me! Go away!”

Harry and Gabriel made their way through the furious horde of reporters, all shouting louder than each other to get the poor woman's attention.

“Come on, that's enough now. Get out of the way!” Harry exclaimed, shoving those in his way without mercy.

When they reached the gate and avoided being hit by the broom, the two detectives presented their badges to the woman who reluctantly let them in.

The large house, which once must have been very beautiful, looked more like an abandoned building than a habitable home. A fire glowed faintly in the fireplace, barely enough to warm the icy atmosphere of the decrepit living room to which the woman led her guests. Harry began to roam the room, observing every detail in the hope of finding a clue, while his partner began to question Mrs. Spencer.

She was a frail woman in her early seventies, her face marked by life's trials and tribulations. With a trembling hand, she poured a glass of Scotch and swallowed it in one gulp before responding to the Lieutenant.

“He was never there!” she exclaimed vehemently. “You're wasting your time, so leave now!”

“Has he called you yet? Do you have any idea where he might have gone?” Gabriel insisted.

“I told you! I don't know! I don't know anything!”

“Mrs. Spencer!”

Harry interrupted his partner by grabbing his arm and gave him a confident look that meant "let me do it". He turned to one of the large windows in the living room which was missing one of its panes.

“The glass is broken!” he said in a conversational tone. “Shouldn't you get it fixed?”

“What's the point? It will be broken again anyway,” the old woman replied without looking at him.

“Is that how you raised your children too?” Gabriel intervened, to Harry's despair, who had hoped to be able to talk calmly. “If they were broken, would you leave them like this without trying to repair them?”

His words made her react. She stood up slowly and approached him, looking up to maintain eye contact.

“What does a young man like you know?” she whistled between her teeth. “Have you ever raised a child? Please leave now,” she said, moving away from them.

“Mrs. Spencer,” Harry held her back. “Thirty years ago Donnie was arrested by the Aurors, wasn't he?”

The old woman looked up at him, an indecipherable expression on her face.

“Not far from your old neighborhood, young women had been found dead, and he had been heard as a suspect,” the young Auror continued. “He was freed in the end, because he had an alibi, but it was bogus, wasn't it?”

There were a few seconds of silence and then she let out a sob that resounded in the cold room.

“If I had let the Aurors take him to Azkaban then, I wouldn't have to suffer like that today!” she cried.

“So it's true, he had no alibi?!” Harry pressed.

Mrs. Spencer did not answer and began to leave the room without a glance at the investigators who hurried after her. She entered the first room she encountered and locked the door in the two men's faces, ignoring their questions.

“You know where he is, and you are hiding it, don't you? Where's Donnie?!” Gabriel cried.

“Go away!” the woman's muffled voice replied.

“Mrs. Spencer!”

“Merlin! Leave me in peace!”

“Tsk. Why did you have to provoke her?” Harry asked his partner, turning to him with his hands on his hips.

“You, shut up,” the officer replied curtly before turning his heels.

“Mpf. He's more irascible than a Blast-Ended Skrewt,” the young Auror whispered as he watched him walk away.

Remaining alone in the living room, he swept the room one last time in case he missed something. He spotted a beautifully framed photograph on one of the shelves and approached to inspect it. He recognized Mrs. Spencer, much younger and happier, smiling beside a man, probably Mr. Spencer. The couple were standing in front of a large sign, Lavis Chemicals. He didn't linger any longer and went out in search of his partner to return to the office together.

  
  


It had already been dark for several hours and there was weariness in the Violent Crimes Division after this unproductive day. Slumped on their desks, the team members were almost alone in the silent Department, except for a few Aurors who were chatting quietly in a nearby Section. In his chair, Harry rested his head on the backrest with his paper cup between his teeth and watched the ceiling as he heard the murmurs of the discussions.

Jack suddenly straightened his head with a loud sniff and turned towards Gabriel. “Spencer hasn't contacted you today?” he suddenly asked, looking at the phone on the table.

“No. Nothing at all,” the officer replied, ruffling his usually impeccably coiffed hair.

“What if he's fled illegally to Russia?” Rose intervened without raising her head from her desk.

“Ah, don't say that,” Liam reprimanded. “You're going to jinx us. If he did indeed go illegally to Russia, we'll all be demoted.”

Jack, who had rested his head back on his table, straightened up again with a sigh.

“That's enough, stop talking nonsense. Did his colleagues and acquaintances have anything interesting to say?”

“After his arrest two years ago, he apparently cut off contact with everyone,” Liam replied in a monotone voice. “I told them to let us know if he contacted them, even though it seems highly unlikely.”

“What about you, Rookie, have you got anything to tell us?” Rose asked Harry.

He dropped his empty cup, but didn't change his position on his chair.

“We met his mother, but she didn't seem to be in touch with him. She doesn't seem to be his number one fan.”

“That's an understatement,” Gabriel mumbled beside him.

“I don't think she lied to us,” the young Auror continued.

“Even if it's her son, he's a murderer,” Rose commented. “We can understand her.”

“Nevertheless, I asked for Mrs. Spencer's call history, phone as well as firecalls,” the Lieutenant said. “We'll know if she's telling the truth after we've checked it out.”

“And what about the reports received by Section Two?” Jack asked. “Rose, do you know anything?”

“They're sorting out what seems credible and hoaxes, but so far there's nothing.”

“Merlin, the day is coming to an end and we're not getting anywhere,” the old Auror sighed as he ran his hand over his face. “But where is this scum hiding?!”

“Even if it’s short, I wish he'd call us,” Harry thought aloud. “Just a little hi. Just so we have a clue where he is.”

Only silence followed his statement, disturbed by the faint music rising from a radio turned on by colleagues at the other end of the Department. The team members slowly returned to the state of torpor that had preceded their conversation.

The phone had been set at the loudest volume, so when it suddenly rang, Harry thought he had seen his last hour coming. He wasn't the only one who was surprised, his colleagues jumped into their seats, panic etched on their tired faces.

“What?” cried Jack as he hurried out of his seat.

“Is that him? Is it really him?” Harry asked frantically.

“Oh, Merlin!” Rose exclaimed, leaning over her desk and trying to get a glimpse of the caller's identity. “Look at the number, it's not a phone box!”

“Liam! The tracing spell, quick!” the old Auror ordered, snapping his fingers repeatedly.

“Right away, Chief!”

At the same moment, Professor Wellick walked towards them, levitating cups of tea in front of him, looking a little lost in their excitement. Harry motioned for him to settle down silently, his index finger against his mouth, while Gabriel took the call over the loudspeaker.

“Spencer?” he asked slowly.

“Why, by Merlin, did you have to go there?” the criminal's hoarse voice retorted, more tense than usual. “Why did you go to that old woman? Did you intend to force me to surrender?”

“Do you want to surrender?” Gabriel replied.

On the other end of the phone, Spencer let out a nervous laugh. “It's the only way for you that I'm going to jail, isn't it? I told you to do your homework. I'll consider turning myself in if you do it right. What the hell are you doing anyway? Someone else is dead!”

“You're the one who killed her!” the officer snapped back.

“Nah. It wasn't me. Same with the one in Edinburgh.”

“Yous scum-” Harry hissed before he controlled himself and swallowed his insults.

“Do you really think I'm going to believe you?” the Lieutenant asked, imperturbable.

“I think it's true,” Wellick intervened, moving closer to the phone.

All the Aurors glanced at him in disbelief, not knowing how to react to his sudden interruption.

“Who the hell are you?” Spencer grunted.

“The only person right now who believes what you're saying,” the professor replied.

“What?”

“On the bodies of Julia Chaplin and Victoria Decker, there's a particular mark that you didn't leave. If it was you, you would have told everyone by now. You're a show-off who's brave enough to call the Aurors.”

“So, what if I am?”

“When did you kill for the first time? If it wasn't you, why do you think the murderer used a similar method? Why are you obsessed with women in skirts?”

“Is it an interrogation or just curiosity?”

“It's because of your mother,” James continued, entirely focused on his exchange with the killer.

There was a beat of silence. All eyes were riveted on the professor and the atmosphere tensed up a notch following this affirmation, said on the tone of the conversation.

“What?” Spencer whispered, almost inaudibly.

“I think you're calling us because of your mother. You've probably seen pictures of the Aurors going to her house. She said you weren't her son. A long time ago, you only tried to strangle your sister out of curiosity, but she had you committed to psychiatry. “ _Doctor. My son... he is not sane. No. He is not human. Then don't let him out until he is human again_ ,”” he imitated in a higher voice.

Through the loudspeaker, the investigators could hear the noisy and jerky breathing of their interlocutor, the only proof that he was still listening.

“Your mother, did she often wear skirts?” Wellick continued. “Or was it your sister?”

“You're trying so hard…”

“At that time, you were not killing strangers, but your mother, repeatedly. Didn't you?”

The dial tone answered his last question and the tension suddenly dropped.

“What's wrong with you?!” Harry angrily shouted at the professor. “What are you doing, talking to him? And what does it mean " _you believe him_ "? Do you want us to start swallowing his bullshit?”

“I'm not sure he's lying,” Wellick defended himself. “The Chaplin and Decker murders are a little different…”

“Different how?!”

“Spencer will always act that way. You won't be able to catch him just by trying to find out where he's hiding. You have to make him come to you.”

“Ah, I see. That's the reason?” Harry snorted, increasingly irritated by the professor's attitude. “You like to interrogate murderers. You don't actually care about arresting them, do you? You're just doing this for your stupid research, aren't you?”

“Hey, Henry...,” Gabriel tried to reason with him, approaching him.

“What? Am I wrong? He doesn't care about the victims. He has no idea how unhappy the families might feel.”

“What do you know?” James argued. “Catching the culprit is the only thing that matters to me.”

“You're wrong. You're wrong! You think our job is just to apprehend suspects? No! Our job is to protect people's lives! I don't know how it works in 2017, but it all comes down to protecting people's lives! If he kills again because of your provocation, then that means you will be responsible. Do you get it?”

Bubbling with anger, Harry turned around and stormed out of the Department without another word or look at his silent colleagues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a “slow” chapter, but necessary to get to the action!  
> Hope you still enjoy this story!  
> See you soon! ✧(•̀ᴗ-)


	17. -17-

Despite his foul mood, and after turning and tossing around in his bed for what seemed like hours, Harry finally fell into a restless sleep. In his dreams, he was always back in 1986, with Ginny, sometimes even with his friends. The young man couldn't decide whether these dreams comforted him, allowing him to see those people so dear to his heart, or made him more unhappy, reminding him that those moments spent with them were not real.

He shared his thoughts with Ginny, who was sitting against him on the small, soft sofa in the living room, her legs resting on the armrest, as he gently passed his hand between her auburn locks. His gaze was fixed on the opposite wall, where the intriguing portrait of a clown was hung, illuminated by the glow of the fire in the fireplace.

“I'm lost, Gin,” he sighed. “Completely lost. Between these murders and the investigation, time travel, Henry Cooper... I'm lost.”

“Don't think too much, Harry. You're going to strain something up there,” the young woman gently teased, accompanying her words with a finger tapping on her head.

He gave her a flick on the forehead, and she straightened up with an exaggerated cry of pain. In his frame, the clown smiled broadly at him. It was curious, he didn't remember having bought such a painting before.

“Anyway, it's not like you know how to go back in time, do you?” she asked, massaging her forehead.

“I know,” he replied, turning his attention back to Ginny who had huddled up against him again. “I just feel like I'm going crazy. At times, I really feel like I'm part of this team, that I belong to this time.”

“But you don't. I'm waiting for you. You're not going to leave me here alone, are you?”

“Of course I'm not. I'm going to do everything I can to get back to you.”

They fell silent for a few minutes, enjoying the quiet that was only disturbed by the crackling of the flames in the hearth and the sound of the rain hitting the windows. Outside, the sun was beginning to descend into the clear sky, and its low rays illuminated the room.

“Say, where did this clown portrait come from?” Harry suddenly asked, staring at the painting again.

“What clown portrait?”

“The one above the fireplace. It even has a little hat, with pompoms.”

“There's no clown,” the young woman replied, turning to him.

She looked at him for a moment and then let the back of her hand slide against his forehead, his cheek, his chest.

“Why don't you put aside your problems and enjoy your time with me instead?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as her hand continued to slide down his body.

“I think I can do that. But let's go to the bedroom, then.”

She rose gracefully with a smile and pulled his hand up to get him to follow her. Harry took one last look over his shoulder at the portrait, just in time to see the strange figure wink at him before he disappeared.

Harry woke up feeling disoriented. Almost like every day, a headache pierced his skull in a throbbing way. He chased away the remnants of sleep by running his hand over his face and the few vague memories of his dream began to fade away, except for the persistent image of this clown in his portrait. He helped himself to a cup of coffee in which he emptied a vial of pain-killing potion and sat on his windowsill to watch the street.

Did this clown mean anything? He thought that once he was back in 1986, he could always go and see that crazy old lady Trelawney; she knew how to interpret dreams, didn't she? He let out a burst of laughter at this stupid idea. It wasn't the first time he'd had a strange dream, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

  
  


Dr. Adler handed the two Aurors a copy of his analysis report on the ink used to tattoo the young women's heels. Samples had been taken from Claire Tenenbaum's leg, and from the bodies of Julia Chaplin and Victoria Decker, and then carefully compared.

“It’s a mixture of carbon black and iron sulphate. It is pigmented, an association between Indian ink and metallo-gallic ink.”

“It’s oil-based, therefore water-resistant,” Gabriel commented as he went through the document.

“It’s also resistant to the effects of the sun for a long time,” the coroner added. “But we also found traces of asbestos in its composition.”

“It's all gibberish to me,” Harry mumbled as he read over his partner's shoulder. “It reminds me of potion classes. I don't understand anything.”

“The dangers of asbestos came to light in the early 1990s,” the Healer patiently explained. “Because of its great toxicity, the Ministry imitated the Muggle guidelines and banned its use in magical manufactured products.”

“It means that this ink is no longer used, is that right?” the Lieutenant asked, looking up from the report.

“That is correct. Thirty years ago, there were few producers of ink for wizarding supply shops. The most important one was Lavis Chemicals, which produced the vast majority of the ink used by Wizards in the United Kingdom.”

“Lavis…” Gabriel murmured. “It doesn't ring a bell.”

“It's normal, they closed down twenty years ago.”

“Lavis Chemicals,” Harry repeated, tilting his head to the side. “I've heard that name somewhere before.”

 _No_. Not heard it. Seen it, he had seen it. In the photograph at Donnie Spencer's mother's house. He repeatedly tapped his partner's shoulder with his hand and the latter stared at him incomprehensibly.

“Hey. Gabriel. Gaby-”

“Don't call me _Gaby_.”

“I know where I've seen that name!”

Another visit to Mrs. Spencer's house was necessary, and this time the two Aurors were careful not to antagonize the old woman from their first words. She reluctantly let them in and served each of them a suspiciously murky glass of water.

“Your husband, isn't that right?” Harry began, pointing to the photograph. “Was he the director of Lavis Chemicals?”

“He inherited the company when his father retired,” she confirmed.

“Did Donnie often visit the factory?” Gabriel asked, tracing the rim of his glass with his index finger.

“It was a bit of a big playground for the children,” she nodded. Suddenly her gaze wandered away and she seemed to get lost in her memories.

“An apartment complex was built where the factory used to be. By any chance, were there any other buildings belonging to the company?”

“Why are you asking me questions about such old things?” the old woman asked abruptly, turning to them, squinting her eyes. “You think he’s hiding there, don't you?”

Harry expected that, same as their last visit, she would get angry and decide to run away. However, she just lowered her head and observed a few moments of silence.

“There…” she hesitated. “There is indeed another building.”

  
  


The two team members returned to the Department with their new discovery which, without a doubt, would finally enable them to apprehend Spencer. They immediately informed Jack, and he urgently called all teams back from the field for a briefing.

Harry took advantage of a short break before the meeting started, while all the participants arrived, to go down to the cafeteria to buy a snack. He was hurrying back to the Department when he spotted Gabriel a few steps away in the middle of a phone conversation. The young Auror approached discreetly, being able to perceive snippets of discussion: “... Keep you informed. Mh... Outside? ... Later... Yes, me too…”. He came a little bit closer. His partner still hadn't noticed his presence.

The latter finally hung up and turned around to find himself face to face with Harry, who was almost against him.

“What's with that silly smile?” the young man asked, staring at him, before raising his eyebrows suggestively and winking at him.

“Is it your hobby, spying on others and ruining their lives?” the Lieutenant replied, backing away.

“If you've finished flirting on the phone, then we can start the meeting,” the young Auror cheerfully exclaimed as he made his way back to the office.

Gathered in the conference room, facing an enlarged map of the city, the dozen Aurors listened attentively to Gabriel's presentation.

“The main building of the factory is here,” the officer explained, pointing to a glittering dot on the map. “It has since been converted into a residential building. The second factory is here,” he pointed, creating another marker with his wand. “The building has been disused since it closed twenty years ago. It is likely that the suspect is hiding there.”

“Have we managed to retrieve the blueprint of the factory?” Jack asked his team.

“Here,” Liam replied, handing it to him. “It's a good thing the Ministry archives make copies of everything.”

“The structure is quite complex,” Gabriel commented. “It will be difficult to get a clear overview. I don't know what to expect inside either, since the place was abandoned a long time ago. We'll have to be as discreet as possible.”

“On the most recent maps of the surroundings, there is only one access road and no houses around,” Rose intervened, showing them the plans. “I'm sure no one even suspects there's a factory over there.”

“It's the perfect hiding place,” Harry nodded. “I'm sure that's where this scum is hiding.”

“The main entrance is here,” Gabriel continued, detailing the map. “However, the other sides of the building are exposed.”

“If we're not careful, he'll see us coming from far away,” Liam said with a wince. 

“That's why we have to take him out without giving him a chance to spot us,” Harry stated.

“He's quick-witted,” Jack argued. “If we besiege him from all sides, it will divide our forces and he'll still manage to escape. The area is too wide to put up anti-apparition barriers. We'll do it like this: block these two sides only in addition to the door. Rose, Liam and I will come this way. Henry and Gabriel, you will take this side. Unit Two, you will take the main entrance. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Chief!” the Aurors answered in unison.

“Then let's go.”

The intervention team prepared itself quickly and efficiently. Its members donned the regulation dark uniforms, equipped with protective enchantments and discretion spells. For good measure, Harry placed an extra _Extenuo Sonitus_ on his outfit and nodded his head towards his partner, signaling that he was ready.

The young Auror could already feel the adrenaline rush of the upcoming raid and shivered with excitement and apprehension. There was no room for error. Spencer had to be caught that night, at all costs.

Once they were dressed, they all apparated together into a fallow field near the factory, far enough not to be seen, but close enough to spot the place. The twilight was their ally, and they waited until nightfall to take action, watching for the slightest shudder from the disused building that stood eerily in front of them.

After a final nod, each team disapparated to its objective. Harry and Gabriel appeared right next to the west façade and froze for a moment to listen. The silence of the night was only disturbed by the distant hooting of an owl. The two Aurors looked at each other and then started to move. With the help of perfectly executed levitation spells, they managed to make their way up to the first floor through an open window.

The sound of their footsteps was completely damped by the _Assurdiato_ , which protected their boots. They moved quickly through the empty building, dimly lighting their way with their wands raised in front of them. Harry could feel the tension in every muscle, and the sound of his beating heart was muted in his ears. Despite the winter cold, a drop of sweat traveled down his back and he tightened his grip on his wand.

A high-pitched cry suddenly echoed to his right. In panic, he turned around and lit up his partner's livid face.

“Sorry,” the latter whispered. “I think I stepped on a cat.”

They stood still for a few moments, listening for a possible reaction. Nothing. They slowly resumed their exploration. Eventually, they arrived in a wide corridor overlooking the main hall and joined Rose, Liam and Jack who were coming from the opposite side. Harry shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. Rose replied in the same way. They hadn't found any trace of Spencer.

“Nothing at all?”

“No. What about you?”

“He's not here,” the young Auror sighed bitterly.

They were about to leave the building when Harry stopped abruptly and waved his hand to his colleagues. He stood still and sniffed the air. _Tobacco_. Someone was smoking nearby. Without making a sound, he nodded his head to where the smell was coming from and signalled for others to follow him. Tenser than ever, the four Aurors walked up a narrow dark corridor and came to a doorway.

The thin plastic film that acted as a curtain swayed gently with the air currents that had sent them the scent of tobacco. Glued to the wall, Harry nodded to his teammates and prepared to intervene. His wand slipped into his sweaty palm and he tightened his fingers, his knuckles turning white. At his side, he could hear Gabriel trying to control his breathing.

The young Auror raised his left hand and began his silent countdown. _One_. _Two..._ _Three_.

Harry leapt forward, shouting, “You're done, you scum!” and the four investigators burst into the disused room. Six teenagers who were sitting on the floor around a campfire got up sharply and stared at them in surprise.

“Where's Spencer?” Harry exclaimed. “Where's that rotten bastard?!”

“Who the fuck are you?” one of the youths indignantly replied, lowering his hood.

“We don't know your Spencer, bruv,” one of his friends said.

Rose and Liam lit up the rest of the room where there was nothing but the teenagers' scooters and beer cans scattered on the floor.

“There's someone else hanging around here, isn't there? Haven't you seen him?” Harry insisted.

“Quit fucking around. We don't know what the fuck you're talkin’ about.”

“Hey, what are you goin' to do with your piece of wood there?” another mocked, pointing at the young Auror. “You think you're David Copperfield, bruv?”

 _Piece of wood_? Merlin, they just had to be Muggles. Harry was exhausted. Exhausted and furious, which could make him a bit touchy, he had to admit.

“Brat! Speak to me in another tone, will you!” he snapped as he walked towards the young man, wand in his fist.

“What?! You’ve got a problem, imp?!”

The spell erupted without a warning; an indescribable pandemonium ensued.

The first blood glows of dawn were already beginning to tint the sky when the Aurors finally returned to the Ministry, exhausted after that disastrous night. Jack called out to Harry as he came out of the lifts and motioned for him to approach.

“Harry,” he began in a weary tone. “I want your report for the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes on my desk by noon. I'll leave it to you to explain in person to the Director of the Auror Department why a brigade of Obliviators had to come in the middle of the night to take care of teenage Muggles who, among other things, were vomiting slugs.”

“Yes, Chief,” the young Auror replied with exaggerated deference before grumbling in a lower voice, “They can blame me all they want, those brats deserved a good lesson.”

As Harry walked to his desk, he decided he had to face the reality and accept the facts: James was probably right. The Aurors' approach was not producing any concrete results, and worse, it was making them look like a bunch of losers. The young professor joined them in the morning and, seeming to sense the sullen mood of the investigators, made no comment on the previous day's mission.

At noon sharp, Harry dropped his report on his superior's desk and then slowly walked towards Wellick who was sitting in a chair a few steps away. When he reached him, he cleared his throat to get his attention.

“James,” he started hesitantly. “About what I said the other day... I got carried away and-”

“Henry,” the professor interrupted, shaking his head. “You were right. I acted rashly, I'm sorry. I didn't think about the consequences of my actions. Please accept my apology.”

“Oh. Huh. Okay. I'm sorry, too. I could have made the effort to be more... diplomatic.”

“I understand that's not a word used to describe you, is it?”

“Who dares to slander me?” the young Auror asked, squinting. “Anyway, we should try to concentrate our efforts on arresting the bastard instead of wasting our time fighting. You have a plan, don't you?”

  
  


The lunch break was short, and soon, the Aurors were back on the job again, trying to catch up on their pursuit of their suspect. James suggested that the Aurors should go about it in a different way.

“He’s a man who knows how to hide. Instead of moving heaven and earth to find him, we must let him come to us on his own.” 

He stood in front of the painting and showed a map of the south of the capital.

“His hunting ground is along route 47, here, as he uses his car to follow his victims. But if he were to commit another murder, I am not sure he would choose such a familiar place; his favourite spot is now known to the Aurors. Serial killers tend to move closer to residential areas as they commit their crimes. One can suspect that his next target will probably be towards this area, near this sewage treatment plant.”

“What do you suggest, then?” Jack asked, crossing his arms.

“We can trap him by luring him here,” he replied, pointing to the map. “We're going to play his game and give him a kind of challenge. We know he's following the media closely. We will spread a message that he can interpret as being addressed to him, based on the fact that we know where to find him. He will want to prove that he is smarter than we are by attacking someone right under our noses.”

“And how are you going to do that?” Harry wondered cautiously.

“First, we need a bait.”

Several Aurors volunteered for the mission, including Harry and Rose, and it was agreed that this would be decided by a vote. Rose won the vote hands down, much to the dismay of the young man who wanted to be the one to lure the bastard into their trap.

“Don't you trust me?” he asked his colleagues.

“No offence, Henry, but we trust you as little as possible,” Liam replied, a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

Slightly annoyed, he was nevertheless actively involved in preparing the young woman for her upcoming task. As she was trying on her seventh outfit, she turned to her colleagues for advice, suddenly feeling unsure.

“Do you really think it will work? That he'll fall for it?”

“Yeah, because you're a bit old for him, that’s sure,” Harry commented without looking at her, busy unfolding all the clothes to be tested.

There was in her mastery of the Bat-Bogey hex the undeniable trace of Ginny's teaching, he thought afterwards, sitting at his desk. He had conjured up a small mirror that he had placed on his table and spent a fair amount of time applying a soothing balm to the multiple scratches that adorned his face, too impressed to be angry with his colleague.

For three evenings, unrecognisable thanks to the polyjuice, Rose walked along the dark path around the water treatment plant. On the advice of James, she had chosen an eye-catching outfit: a red skirt and a beige coat with a white fur collar that stood out in the night. The Aurors kept a close watch on her, with a ground crew and a flying squadron scouting over the area. The only flaw in their plan was a blind spot when she crossed a grove where they had no visual.

For the first two nights, nothing happened. On the third day, as the young woman walked slowly along the dirt road, the headlights of a car appeared in the distance behind her. Tension rose a notch among the teams following her. Rose's orders were to create a flurry of red sparks at the slightest sign of Spencer's presence or if she was in trouble.

Harry, who was part of the flying squadron, watched the car slowly approach his colleague. Hidden by a Disillusionment charm, he lost a little altitude and moved over the car. The car passed the young woman and stopped for a few moments at her level. The Auror was able to pick up some bits of conversation, then the vehicle accelerated and disappeared into the night without incident. Rose started up again and entered the grove.

Harry flew over, followed by members of his squadron. Once he flew past the undergrowth, he stayed in place for a few moments, waiting for Rose to reappear. A minute passed, then two. He felt his pulse racing. Something was wrong. It wasn't normal that it took her so long to get out of there. He waved to his teammates, and Liam started his descent. He stepped on the ground at the same time as Gabriel appeared at the entrance to the grove.

“What's going on? Where is Rose?”

“She hasn't come out of the grove!”

The Lieutenant rushed into the undergrowth, joined by the Aurors on the ground. Harry tightened his grip on the broom handle and climbed back up. He described a wide circle, watching for the slightest suspicious movement. Minutes passed, and he could sense that the situation was beginning to get desperate.

“Come on, Rose, give us a sign…” he whispered as he frantically scanned the night landscape with his eyes. “I beg you to…”

Suddenly he saw them. Illuminating the inky sky, red sparks gushed from a nearby field. All the Aurors converged on the source of the distress signal. Harry was closest, and he split the air, motivated by the energy of despair. He saw two dark silhouettes below and dived down to the ground.

He discerned Rose, thanks to her light coat. She was struggling fiercely against a man. Harry approached at a low angle and picked up a little more speed. The seemingly unarmed young woman tried to escape her attacker, but he knocked her to the ground. Harry saw him stand over her and put his hands on her neck.

“In your dreams, son of a bitch!” the young Auror shouted, jumping from his broom launched at full speed.

With his feet together, he fell on the man and violently knocked him down. The shock threw the suspect a few metres further and he crashed to the ground with a muffled scream. Harry got up and then ran towards Rose.

“Are you all right?” he asked anxiously, helping her to stand up. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, I'm all right,” she replied in a trembling voice. “Don't worry about me. Stop him!”

She tried to stand up, but made a plaintive moan when she pressed on her left arm. At the same moment the rest of the Aurors joined them. Harry saw the Lieutenant pass by them without stopping, chasing the suspect who was beginning to move away. Liam rushed towards his teammate, the relief of seeing her safe and sound clear on his face.

“Go after him, Henry!” Rose repeated, pushing him with her good hand.

Harry had already been running for a few minutes, stumbling at times on the uneven ground beneath his feet, when he heard screams a little further away. Flashes of light illuminated the darkness, and he narrowly avoided a lost spell that brushed against his ear. He accelerated and finally saw Gabriel and the suspect on an embankment a few metres away from him. He arrived just in time to see the former throw himself with all his strength at the latter. The two men fell off the embankment and rolled down the road.

Breathlessly, Harry climbed up to the abutment to join them. He picked up the wands that had fallen to the ground as he ran by. Once at the top, he saw that the Lieutenant had managed to catch the suspect. The latter was lying on his back with the suspect between his legs, his arms around his neck. Both the officer and the criminal were screaming, their faces shining with sweat and blood.

“Gabriel!” the young man shouted as he rushed towards him, sliding down the slope of the embankment.

He heard the rest of the team coming up behind him. The _Lumos_ coming out of their wands lit up the darkness and the suspect's face appeared clearly. It was Spencer. Harry could barely believe it. They had finally caught him. Jack, with the help of two Aurors, managed to separate Gabriel and Spencer and began to take Spencer away. The Lieutenant, once up, tried to throw himself at him again, but Harry barely held him back.

“Gabriel!” he exclaimed, hugging his arms around him. “It's all over! You've caught him! It's all over now.”

His partner's cries of rage turned into sobs and his hands closed over the young Auror's arm. At last, it was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They finally got him! Yay!  
> I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, because writing action scenes is really a challenge for me! Most of it was written during my night shifts when it wasn’t too busy! And let me tell you, 4 am is the best hour to be inspired! ^^  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! As usual, thanks for reading!  
> See you soon!


	18. -18-

Under heavy guard, Donnie Spencer crossed the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, imperturbable in front of the tumult of journalists and onlookers who crowded around him. Once they reached the Department's detention cells, the Aurors conducted a thorough search of the suspect and then locked him up, leaving several guards on site to watch him. This time, they were going to make sure he could not escape them.

The Director of the Auror Department arrived with great pomp and circumstance a few minutes later and congratulated the investigators at length on their success. Many accolades and handshakes later, he finally left the premises to officially address the journalists.

Jack sighed and turned to his team.

“I’m telling you as well, it was a good job,” he began, although without the same enthusiasm as his superior. “But you realize that this is just the beginning, don't you? In most situations, a case is solved as soon as the suspect is behind bars, but some perpetrators cause more problems once arrested. I have a feeling that's going to be the case for Spencer. This monster will probably never confess. He had the nerve to contact us and to play games with us, he will continue to lead us down the garden path. Getting him to talk won't be easy.”

He paused for a moment and leaned on his desk with a serious face.

“We need strong incriminating evidence that will prevent him from getting away with it. Forensic teams are undoubtedly already at the crime scene. Unit one, I'm counting on you to support them,” he said with a nod to the Aurors involved. “Gabriel, you should take a trip to St Mungo. This gash should probably be seen by a Healer. Go with Harry and see how Rose is doing. Liam and I will start the report on tonight's events.”

  
  


In the bright light of the St Mungo’s Emergency Room, the bruises and cuts that adorned the Lieutenant's face stood out more than ever and testified to the violence of the blows he had exchanged with Spencer. None of his wounds were serious, however, and as Harry stood by the stretcher, he silently watched as the Healer quickly treated his partner.

The two Aurors then went to the small room where Rose had been placed in a ward close to the Emergency Department. She suffered some bruises and a broken arm from her altercation with the criminal. She greeted her two colleagues with a tired smile, visibly satisfied although shaken by the events of the evening.

“I still can't believe it,” she said, shaking her head. “We finally caught him! A broken arm is well worth the achievement!”

“But are you sure you're alright?” Harry insisted, scrutinising her carefully. “Such an assault can leave traces other than physical ones.”

“I don't know,” she confessed after a few seconds of silence. “At the moment I'm rather bothered by my arm. The Healers told me that the way the bones had been broken meant that they had to be made to disappear and then grown back with Skele-gro. I'm going to have to spend the night here.”

Harry grimaced as he recalled his own unpleasant experience with the potion. He addressed her with a compassionate smile. The sound of the door opening made him turn his head and his heart missed a beat. Although he should have expected it, he was not prepared for the sudden arrival of Ron and Hermione.

What struck him most was the obvious resemblance of his former friend, now in his fifties, to Arthur Weasley. His hair was still as red as ever, although more parsimonious on his slightly bald skull and wrinkles decorated the corners of his eyes and mouth. Hermione, too, had changed. Her indomitable brown curls were gathered into a perfect braid and her face exuded an authority that he had not known her before. Her features were tired, but the relief was evident in her brown eyes.

“Rose!” the latter cried as she rushed towards her daughter and hugged her.

Ron imitated her, frantically inspecting the young woman to make sure she was indeed well.

“The Ministry contacted us but didn't give us any details,” Hermione said as she ran her hand through Rose's hair. “We were worried to death!”

“I've called Scorpius. He's due to take the first portkey from Moscow, but he won't be here until tomorrow morning,” the young woman said. “I didn't think the Department would call you. I'm all right.”

“You've fought a serial killer!” Ron argued. “That's not nothing!”

“I'm telling you I'm fine! We got him! Especially thanks to Henry and Gabriel, who rescued me in time,” she said, nodding in the direction of the two Aurors.

Her parents turned towards them, noticing for the first time their presence in the room. Suddenly Ron walked over to Harry and embraced him without warning.

“Thank you! Thank you for saving my daughter! I still don't know how to express my gratitude!”

In the arms of his best friend, Harry was ecstatic. He thought there was no better way to say thank you than to be by their side. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to tell them the whole truth, but he knew it wasn't a good idea. He had a thousand things to tell them. He wanted to tell them how much he missed them even though they were in front of him. More than ever, seeing them again rekindled his determination to return to his own time.

Ron let him go and then turned to Gabriel, who stepped back and offered his hand, preferring to avoid a stranger's hug. The officer then waved to the young Auror to let him know that it was time to leave Rose and her parents alone.

Reluctantly, Harry followed him out of the room with a last look at his friends, whose attention was once again entirely focused on their daughter. Hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor and he turned his head to see the new arrivals. First he saw James, who approached them in a hurry.

Then behind him, the young Auror saw an older woman. His heart seemed to stop for the second time that evening. This face, though old, he could never mistake it. _Ginny_. She was as beautiful as ever. Her long hair, gathered in a bun, had kept its shimmering colour. Her eyes shone with the same brilliance as in her youth and her figure was unchanged, slim and lean.

Harry stood still, a storm of emotion raged through his mind. Joy, sadness, fear. He wanted to hug her just as much as he felt the inexplicable need to run away. As with Ron and Hermione, he wanted to tell her that he loved her more than anything, that he was sorry, that he missed her more and more every day.

“James?” Gabriel asked beside him, surprised to see him. “What are you doing here?”

“We've come to see Rose. Ron and Hermione called us,” he said in a voice tenser than usual. He then turned to Ginny who had just arrived at his side. “They are colleagues of Rose's. Gabriel Corner and Henry Cooper. Ginny Weasley, my mother.”

His words had the effect of a violent punch in the young Auror's sternum. His breathing stopped, and he could only let out an imperceptible sound of surprise.

“Pleasure to meet you,” she said politely, tilting her head towards them.

Gabriel gave her back her greeting, but Harry continued to stare at her, his mouth wide open, unable to utter a single word. She leaned over to James, whispered something to him and then nodded to the Aurors one last time and entered the room.

“Your... Mother?” Harry managed to articulate with round eyes, his heart threatening to come out of his chest as it was beating so hard. “But you are... Wellick?”

“That's my stepfather's name,” the professor replied, looking at him curiously. “My full name is James Potter-Wellick, but for personal reasons I have chosen to use only the second one. I'm sorry, but I'll go and see how Rose is now.”

Sitting on one of the armchairs in the corridor that was dimly lit by the night lighting, Harry silently stared at the closed door of Rose's room. His thoughts were racing chaotically through his mind, and he felt overwhelmed. There was a nervous twitch in his leg, and he was anxiously fidgeting with his fingers. He wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs, got up suddenly, and sat down again. Gabriel took a seat beside him and watched him for a moment without a word.

“Then…” he finally said hesitantly. “It's... James is your son?”

“I can't believe it,” Harry answered in a trembling voice. “I didn't even know Ginny was pregnant.”

He swallowed and shook his head. He felt terribly guilty for not being around his family. For not seeing him grow up... _his son_. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the idea.

“I abandoned her. I left her all alone to raise him. I should have been there.”

“You should tell them. Face them and tell them. Tell them how sorry you are and tell them who you really are.”

Harry wiped a tear that ran down his cheek with the back of his hand while he let out a laugh mixed with a sob.

“Easier said than done. How can I dare to show up in front of them after all this time? They have lived thirty years without me. They've been through a lot, and I've never been there to help them. James... I don't deserve to be called his father. I risk making them suffer more than anything else.”

“Harry…” the Lieutenant said softly, using his real name for the first time.

“I can't do it. I can't tell them,” he breathed as he shook his head down. “I should already be happy to have met them here, in this time.”

The young Auror fell silent, and Gabriel put a hand on his shoulder. They sat silently under the dim light of the corridor.

  
  


The next day Spencer's interrogation began. Harry, still shaken by the revelation of the previous day, stood beside Gabriel and Liam behind the two-way mirror and all three watched as Jack sat facing the suspect. The latter's hard face betrayed no emotion and his lowered gaze seemed to refuse to meet that of old Auror.

“Donnie Spencer,” Jack started in a confident voice. “You have been arrested in obvious offence for attempted homicide. Do you acknowledge the facts?”

The criminal did not answer.

“You know Rose Granger-Weasley, don't you? You threatened her a few days ago. Yesterday, you tried to strangle her.”

Spencer slowly lifted his head and finally looked up at the Auror.

“I don't know her,” he replied in a neutral tone. “I didn't try to kill her. I wanted to save her.”

“Save her? Then why did you run away when we arrived?”

“Because... I knew the Aurors would think I wanted to kill her.”

On the other side of the two-way mirror, Gabriel barely held Harry back, who was ready to throw himself against the glass with a raging growl. Jack continued to question the suspect, but the latter remained silent and the old Auror eventually left the interrogation room to join his team.

“As I thought, he didn't admit to anything.”

“Let me go in, and I'll get him to talk within five minutes,” Harry said, closing his fist.

“We need Rose's testimony most of all,” his superior sighed, ignoring him. “Do you know how she is?”

“Fine,” Gabriel replied. “She should be out of St Mungo in the next few hours. She said she would come immediately to the Department to make her report.”

True to her promise, the young woman arrived at the Ministry a few hours later, welcomed by her colleagues who were relieved to see her in good health. After hugs, accolades and congratulations, everyone settled down in the meeting room where she told them about the events of the previous day from her point of view.

“We lost sight of you in the grove,” Jack began. “Where did Spencer attack you from? Do you recall?”

“You remember the car that passed me, don't you? When it stopped right in front of me, I thought, " _That's it, that's him_ ". The driver was an old man who just asked me if I was lost, and when I said no, he drove off again. I was watching him drive away when Spencer came out of the bushes and hit me hard. I didn't even have time to react. He immediately immobilized me with a paralysing spell. I couldn't do anything or defend myself.”

She paused in her story and shuddered as she recalled the scene.

“We thought he would approach you in a car,” Gabriel said. “We were wrong. What happened next?”

“He took me to a field at the edge of the undergrowth and laid me down on the ground. He spoke to me.”

“What did he say?” Jack asked hastily, leaning forward a little.

In the small room everyone was listening attentively without saying a word.

“While he was putting on his gloves,” he looked at me with a look filled with... Hunger. He said, " _You're looking for me, aren't you? I am watching you, you Aurors. I know what you're thinking. Were you trying to set a trap for me?_ ". As he was talking, he took some stockings out of his pocket and started tying my wrists. " _Your profiler was right. I didn't kill Julia Chaplin or Victoria Decker. On the other hand, I did kill all the others. Just like that. With stockings_ ".

“He actually said that? He really said he killed them?” Gabriel interrupted.

“Yes,” Rose nodded with a look of disgust painting her features. “He continued talking. Telling me how he had touched them after strangling them. How he was going to do the same with me. But he hadn't seen that the paralysing spell had begun to wear off. I managed to get up and grab my wand to send the signal. He was surprised, he really wasn't expecting it.”

A proud smile appeared on her lips and she continued.

“I was able to give him a few good kicks before he threw himself on me again and tried to strangle me. That's when Henry came out of nowhere. The rest you know.”

“That bastard. I swear he's going to rot in jail for the rest of his miserable life!” Harry fulminated.

They all took advantage of being gathered in the conference room to take stock of the situation. Gabriel spoke first.

“We won't be able to charge Spencer with cases prior to 2009, as the statute of limitations has expired on cases from 30 years ago. This leaves us with seven intentional homicides and one attempted murder. However, we only have evidence in the cases of Chrissie Fernsby, the St Mungo Healer, and Oona Simpson, the Hogwarts student.”

“Only two murders,” Jack sighed with disappointment. “Liam, show us what forensics found in Spencer's car.”

Without saying a word, the Auror in question pulled a bag from under the table and handed it to him with a dramatic gesture. Inside, Harry could make out a thin gold chain with a crucifix pendant.

“Was he repenting before this cross after his crimes?” Harry intervened, raising an eyebrow.

“It's a feminine jewel,” Rose commented.

“A family said one of the victims had lost her necklace…” said Liam, leaving the end of his sentence open.

“Who?” Harry asked eagerly.

“Oona Simpson. Her brother immediately recognised the pendant when I showed it to him.”

Harry grabbed the bag and inspected the jewel. Over the plastic he ran his finger over the inscription written on the cross in cursive letters.

“ _Lucia_ ” he read in a low voice. “The light.”

“It's Oona's middle name, given at her baptism,” Liam explained. “The family on her mother's side, Muggle, is very religious. It was a gift from her grandparents. This necklace... it's our light. Oona's DNA was found on it when they cast the detection spells.”

“This scum is cornered,” Harry whispered with certainty.

“We can't expect everything to be so easily solved,” Gabriel intervened, frowning. “Let's start with the cases for which we have evidence. If we can put pressure on him, chances are he'll let his guard down and make a mistake. Only then can we deal with the other cases.”

“Good,” Jack nodded. “Let's ask Spencer again.”

Harry was standing next to the table in the middle of the small interrogation room. Sitting on either side, Gabriel and Spencer faced each other in silence. The latter was busy looking at the portraits of Chrissie Fernsby and Oona Simpson as well as pictures, photos and memories of witnesses of his car.

“You say you don't know Chrissie Fernsby or Oona Simpson,” the Lieutenant said in a neutral tone.

The suspect nodded without a word. Gabriel took the bag with the necklace out of his pocket and dropped it on the table.

“What about this? It was hanging in your car. Do you recognise it?”

“Ah, yes,” he replied with half a smile. “I bought it.”

“Where?” the officer asked without missing a beat.

“Maybe in Camden,” the criminal replied, pretending to think. “No. It's coming back to me. It was in Greenwich.”

“The name " _Lucia_ " is engraved on it. You must know what it means, then.”

Spencer looked down and stared at the little cross.

“You don't know. You can't know,” Gabriel said, tapping the bag. “It's a gift Oona Simpson received from her grandparents. Lucia was her baptismal name. How could you know that?”

“Aah,” the suspect breathed. He then shook his head. “My mistake. I found it on the floor in the street.”

Harry, who had remained motionless until now, reacted furiously and threw himself forward. He clapped his hands on the table and exhaled for a long time in an attempt to control himself.

“That's enough!” he hissed between his clenched teeth. “Tell us the truth, now!”

“You killed her and then you kept this necklace to hang it in your car,” Gabriel said calmly before slowly leaning forward. “Why did you do it? Did you want to keep a souvenir of your crime?”

The criminal smirked and then let out a sardonic laugh.

“I think you've read too many detective novels, Lieutenant. Since I found it in the street, it is normal that this necklace bears the trace of its owner. I didn't kill her.”

Gabriel took his phone out of his pocket and put it in front of him. Spencer's voice, recorded during one of his calls to the Aurors, rose from the device: “ _I did kill Oona Simpson, but I'm not guilty of the Edinburgh case_.”

“You said it yourself... you killed her. You also told our colleague, Rose, that you killed all those women using stockings.”

“That was just a lie,” replied the suspect with a smile.

Harry's raised fist was already starting to descend into the criminal's face when he controlled himself. He decided to go for something gentler and grabbed the criminal by the collar of his jacket.

“Are you kidding us? Just a lie?! Are you aware of how many women you've killed?!”

“No. I've never killed anyone,” Spencer replied, looking him straight in the eye, still with that malicious smile. “I swear I haven't.”

  
  


“Let's shove a vial of Veritaserum down his throat and see if he continues to lead us on,” Harry grumbled as he walked back and forth to his office.

“The use of Veritaserum was outlawed after the International Agreements of 1999,” Gabriel replied, retreating to his chair. “Testimony was considered to be obtained under duress and its use was highly controversial.”

“You can try a lie detector enchantment,” Liam suggested.

“A what?” Harry asked, stopping abruptly to stare at him.

“It's the same thing. It won't be admissible,” Jack sighed. “It will be considered circumstantial evidence.”

“And do you really think it will work on him?” Rose intervened. “He's a pro at lying.”

“You can fool people with words, but emotions can arise even if you don't want them to,” Gabriel argued. “I think it can work if we put him under a little psychological pressure.”

“Alright,” Jack concluded. “We'll ask Professor Wellick to interview him.”

Behind the two-way mirror, the whole team watched the young professor settle down in front of Spencer. When he had arrived at the Department, Harry had shamefully avoided him, unsure of how he would react to him; he had not yet had time to digest the revelation of the day before. He watched him glance at the mirror, nod his head and then raise his wand to the suspect.

“ _Mendacium Revelato_ ,” James said with a fluid wrist movement.

A halo of white light enveloped Spencer. Gabriel had explained the principle of enchantment to Harry: the halo would change colour according to the answers he gave. Red, he was lying, green, he was telling the truth.

“You can ask me whatever you want,” Spencer said in his hoarse voice. “I'm sure that no matter what I tell you, the spell will tell you that I'm lying.”

“What's your name?” James asked without wasting any time.

“Donnie Spencer.”

The halo glowed green.

“Did you strangle Oona Simpson to death?”

“No, I did not.”

The glow turned red.

“Did you do it with your hands?”

“I didn't kill her,” the suspect replied a little more hastily.

Still red.

“If it wasn't with your hands, did you use stockings then?”

“I said no.”

“How did you use the stockings to strangle her?”

Spencer breathed in and out slowly. He then leaned forward over the table. From his vantage point Harry tensed up. James was all alone in the room facing the weirdo. Merlin knew what he could do to him before the Aurors intervened. The suspect's voice drew him out of his thoughts.

“Are you listening to me? I said I didn't do it!”

The red halo seemed to vibrate around him. The professor also leaned forward over the table.

“Did you try to kill Rose Granger-Weasley in the same way?”

The criminal backed away and turned his head, without answering.

“I will change my question, then. How did you feel when you strangled your sister thirty years ago?” James asked, in the tone of the conversation. “Did it turn you on?”

Spencer raised his head, his black eyes fixed on the person he was talking to.

“What did you say?”

“Were you disappointed that you didn't succeed in killing her?”

The red halo was now glowing brightly.

“No. It wasn't the same with her.”

“Why did you try to kill her? Did she look down on you as if you were a nobody? Because she was a real Witch and you were only considered a Squib? Is that why you also killed your wife?”

Suddenly, Spencer hit the table with his fist and stood up, trembling with rage. Faced with him, James remained impassive.

“No! I said no!”

“You thought the victims were laughing at you. That must have made you feel superior when they begged you not to kill them. Am I wrong?”

The criminal stared at him for a few seconds without moving and then backed away sharply. Then he grabbed his chair and threw it against the wall behind him.

“You know nothing about me!” he shouted. “No! It’s not true!”

The Aurors prepared to intervene and James nodded to them, aware that they were watching him behind the mirror.

“Even if it's not admissible testimony in court, it only strengthens the evidence we already have,” Gabriel said.

  
  


It was Friday and, true to tradition, the members of the small team gathered for a weekend meal in a crowded pub. However, unlike their usual outings, Gabriel accompanied them, although he looked a little sullen. They were all sitting around a small table, several empty pints and glasses of whisky in front of them, and their cheeks were beginning to turn red.

“Here, have some more beer,” Rose said to the officer sitting next to her. “Come on, be happy Lieutenant! We've caught Spencer!”

“I know,” Harry intervened. “We caught him, but…”

“It's enough, as long as he's behind bars,” Jack said. “There's plenty of time to get him to confess now. Let's use tonight to celebrate this achievement. This stew is excellent. Here, Gabriel, taste it,” he offered, bringing a spoonful to the face of the officer sitting across from him.

“That's not enough!” Harry replied. “We haven't even managed to learn anything about the cases of thirty years ago! We need to do a more thorough job!”

“Don't shout at the Chief, Henry,” Liam reprimanded him with a small wave of his hand.

“As soon as he drinks a little, he's screaming at the Chief,” Rose laughed.

“He's got a good reason to do it,” Gabriel grumbled. “And he's not entirely wrong.”

“Hey, say, you want to get involved too?” the young woman snapped.

“No, I don't want to,” he replied dryly, turning his head towards her with a sharp movement.

“How dare you talk to me like that? We're all equal on the team. You're not my superior! I'm a lieutenant too, and I'm not making a big deal out of it! You're proud of arresting Spencer, aren't you? But thanks to who?!”

“Rose, Rose,” Liam called and tried to calm her down. “Calm down, please. The last time you drank too much, you got into a fight with that German biker…”

“Come on, that's enough!” Jack exclaimed, at the other end of the table.

“No, that's not enough!” Harry cried.

“Oh, Henry, no!” Liam sighed, raising his head to the sky.

“And you're after promotions, aren't you?” Rose continued shouting, in Gabriel's ear. “But for that, you'd have to show a little humanity first!”

“Take off those handcuffs instead of shouting at me, will you?!” he retorted, raising his wrist tied to that of the young woman.

“Merlin, Lieutenant Douchebag! You would never have come, otherwise!” she cried out even louder.

“Oh, go fuck yours-”

“That's enough!” Liam shouted, tapping the table with the flat of his hand. “Enough! I can't take it anymore!”

All the team members froze in place and stared at him without saying anything, imitated by the rest of the pub's customers who turned to the source of the ruckus.

“It's a happy moment! We caught Spencer, by Merlin! It's the best we've done in a long time! Why do you all keep bickering like kids? It's always the same, whenever we go out drinking together! Maybe I should…”

He paused as he realised that everyone was looking at him with big eyes in silence. Slowly, he lowered his head, put his glasses back on his nose with his index finger and took his glass back for a sip. Gradually, the discussions around them resumed, Gabriel was freed from his restraint and Rose apologised by pouring him a shot of Firewhisky.

The rest of the evening passed without further incident and finally ended in a good spirit. After leaving his colleagues, Harry disapparated and then decided to walk a little in the cool night to clear his head. Without really realising it, his footsteps led him to the tunnel.

Facing the stone arch marking the entrance to the long dark corridor, he sighed, closed his eyes and remained silent for a while. He could imagine Ginny's radiant face turning towards him, just like when he caught her reading on the big armchair in the study. Her red hair illuminated by a ray of sunlight. Her eyes filled with joy as she looked at him, the dimples on her cheeks with her smile. He opened his eyes again.

“Ginny,” he said softly. “I've met our son. James. You named him that because of me, didn't you? He was with me from the beginning, can you believe it? He's brilliant. You must be so proud of him. Come to think of it, he looks a lot like you.”

His voice broke on his last syllable, and he paused for a few moments.

“Gin. Can you wait just a little longer? We've arrested Spencer. We really got him, this time. I want to see him confess before I go home. I have a feeling... It's just... Something James said that's been running through my head. I need to know for sure. I promise it won't take long.”

He lowered his head and took a long breath and then straightened up.

“I'm going to come back... And I'm going to make sure I fix everything. I'm going to fix my mistakes. I swear I will.”

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

“So, can you wait for me a little longer?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot twist! James is Harry’s son! ⌒.⌒  
> Did anyone see that coming? I did leave clues, but I think it was really small details easy to miss…  
> Hope you enjoyed today’s chapter!


	19. -19-

The Department was still relatively quiet as the day was just beginning, and Harry could clearly hear that faint ringing in his ears. This had been going on since the day he had chased Spencer through the streets of London. Seeing his upset face, Rose asked him if he had got up on the wrong side of the bed that morning.

“Oh, it sounds like what you're describing sounds like tinnitus,” she said as he explained what was bothering him. “It’s what old people get after listening to concerts too close to the speakers. Are you a fan of rave parties?”

“I'm not old. And I haven't been to that many concerts... Even though I've seen the Beats 'n Brooms several times,” he added, recalling the wild atmosphere of the wizard rock band's shows.

“The Beats 'n Brooms? But the singer died years ago, didn't he?”

“What? Elmer Buttlebottom is dead?!” the young Auror exclaimed with dismay.

“Why is he already screaming so early in the morning?” Liam mumbled as he dropped into his chair, his complexion slightly pale.

“So, partner. Recovered from your emotions?” Rose chuckled with a mocking expression while sipping her cup of tea.

The interested party glanced at her with a dark look and grabbed his bottle of water for a sip.

“ _Enough! That's enough! I can't take it anymore_ ,” imitated the young woman with an authoritative look.

The blonde-haired Auror held his bottle against his forehead and let out a long, plaintive moan. “That's not what I said!”

“You sure can drink, at any rate,” Gabriel added, taking a seat at his desk.

“Watch out, we don't know when he's going to boss us around again!” Rose said, tapping her partner's shoulder with a laugh.

“Stop it! That's enough!”

“He's doing it again! he's doing it again!”

They stopped when Jack suddenly walked into the workspace with a worried expression on his face.

“The prosecutor's office wants to take over Spencer's investigation,” he announced abruptly.

Rose suddenly rose up and rushed out of the department without a word.

“What? But we haven't started questioning him about the cases from thirty years ago yet!” Harry exclaimed.

“Everyone in the British Wizarding World has their attention turned on the investigation. The Ministry thinks the Aurors are not competent enough to handle it. The results of the investigation should have been sent to the Director today, but we have nothing at the moment.”

“It doesn't matter when it's due,” Harry replied. “If we don't solve the cases this time, they will be closed forever!”

“Please, Chief!” Gabriel intervened as he stood up. “Just give us a little more time! We can do it!”

“I can try to negotiate until tomorrow morning,” Jack said. “Until then, do your best. Is that understood? Do you at least have a plan?”

“James advised to bring Spencer's mother in,” the Lieutenant replied.

“Well, go get her!” their superior ordered.

On the way to the Atrium, Harry saw Rose in the middle of a discussion with a young man with almost polar blond hair. It could only be Scorpius Malfoy. He looked almost exactly like his father, but he lacked that superior air so characteristic of the latter. He looked... kind.

The young Auror knew that Draco Malfoy was a prosecutor at the Wizengamot. Thirty years earlier, he had met him several times in the corridors of the Ministry, when he was only an underling. At twenty-five, Draco Malefoy had still been the same pretentious asshole he had been at fifteen. Maybe he had changed since then, but the young man doubted it a little. Where the Slytherin was concerned, Harry tended to have a slightly biased opinion.

“...And my father thinks it best to bring him immediately to justice,” Scorpius was saying to Rose.

“If he dares come near my prisoner, I'll bite him!” Harry shouted as he approached in brisk footsteps, baring his teeth to add the image to his words.

“Uh... Do you want something?” the young Malfoy asked, giving his fiancee a confused look.

“Don't pay attention to him. It's Henry, my colleague. That's his way of saying hello. He makes a lot of noise, but he's harmless.”

“Oh, like your brother Percy's poodle?”

“Exactly like Percy's poodle,” Rose nodded, giving Harry a broad smile.

He was ready to reply, when Gabriel called out to him at the other end of the corridor.

“Hey! Are you coming or what?” he shouted as he held the lift door while being insulted by the busy workers in the cabin.

  
  


Mrs. Spencer cast a cleaning spell on the kitchen counter while pretending to ignore the two Aurors standing next to her, silent. She then moved to the gas cooker and then to the dining table. Harry refrained from commenting that the enchantment didn't really seem to work, judging by the stains of sauce that remained embedded in the furniture. Finally, the elderly woman stopped fussing.

“You've caught him!” she snapped at them. “Isn't that enough?! Why are you still bothering me?”

“You should meet him and try to persuade him to talk,” Harry explained. “He’ll surely listen to you. Think about the victims. You too have raised children. You can understand the pain of losing them.”

She grabbed a rag by the sink and threw it at the young Auror, who ducked it.

“And why should I?!”

“Mrs. Spencer…”

She walked past them and headed towards the corridor, visibly determined to cut short the conversation.

“Your son killed her,” Gabriel intervened. “My mother.”

The old woman stood still for a few moments, refusing to look at him, and then started walking again with quick little steps.

“Ah, Merlin, she’s impossible,” Harry sighed as he tried to catch up with her.

Mrs. Spencer managed to lock herself in the same room as when they first visited. The two Aurors repeatedly knocked on the door and insisted.

“Thirty years ago, in the Foxton district, Donnie Spencer killed my mother who was innocent!” the Lieutenant shouted against the wood. “Madam. Do you know why I became an Auror? I wanted to catch my mother's murderer. And I did. And he's right in front of me. But there's nothing I can do.”

He lowered his head and paused for a few seconds.

“Please, I beg you. Please, go to your son and convince him to confess.”

For several minutes only silence answered his words. Suddenly Mrs. Spencer's voice rose, slightly muffled.

“He... can't be convinced,” she said. “He's a monster. No one can force him to speak.”

“Madam,” Gabriel continued desperately, knocking on the door. “Madam, please. Please, open the door. Madam!”

Back in the Department, Harry slumped down on his desk and stood motionless, his face against the wood, completely disillusioned.

“There's something else we can do…” Gabriel started, sitting next to him.

“Even so, it would be useless. We don't have enough time,” Harry mumbled against the table.

“We still have one card left to play.”

“Do we?” the young Auror asked, turning his head towards the officer.

“Myself.”

Harry rose sharply to his feet. “Huh?!”

“If he knows I'm the son of one of the women he killed, he'll be amused. He'll try to play with me. In his excitement, he might make a mistake. We have to give him something to get something else in return. This time, I’ll be the bait.”

Gabriel slid a picture of a smiling young woman with a baby in her arms onto the table. In front of him, Spencer lowered his eyes and looked at her disinterestedly.

“Do you know who this woman is?”

With his hands folded, the criminal raised his indifferent gaze to the officer. “Who is she?” he asked before looking at her again.

There was a brief silence and then he suddenly tilted his head and smiled. “Why... Why do you have her picture?”

“That's my mother,” Gabriel said, without taking his eyes off the suspect's face.

“Mother?” the suspect breathed with an air of total surprise, his eyes going from the photograph to the Lieutenant. “She... Is that your mother?”

“You killed her, didn't you?”

Spencer leaned back in his chair, turned his head from side to side and licked his lips.

“How can it…?” he laughed and then pulled himself together. “She was wearing a beige cardigan and a grey skirt. It was near a railway line, Foxton. Is that it?” he asked hastily, raising his head to his interlocutor.

“I've looked everywhere for the man who killed my mother,” Gabriel said slowly. “I finally found him. There's a statute of limitations, so you can confess. You killed her, didn't you?”

Spencer looked at him then turned his eyes to Harry and finally turned his attention to the Lieutenant.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” he smiled. “I didn't kill her.”

“You scum!” Harry yelled as he approached. “Then how can you know what Elisabeth Bickford was wearing when she died? You know, because you killed her!”

“I just said something that was going through my head,” the criminal laughed. “I have a lot of imagination.”

“What?” Harry hissed.

The latter hesitated for a moment and then stood right next to Spencer, who was still laughing, and leaned over to him. He put his arm over his shoulders and squeezed tightly on the one his hand was resting on.

“ _Sir_ ,” he said in a lower tone. “ _I did kill the dogs. But I didn't kill any humans_.”

The suspect's reaction was immediate. He froze, and his smile slowly began to fade.

“ _Do you need to have a reason to kill someone ?_ ” the young Auror continued, smiling in turn as he observed Spencer's face who looked up at him in dismay. “You're still good at lying, aren't you? This is how we meet again, after thirty years…”

The criminal pushed Harry away, backed away sharply and got up to take refuge in a corner of the room.

“Who are you?!” he asked, gasping. “What's going on? How is this possible?”

“Why are you so surprised?” Harry said nonchalantly. “I've travelled through the thirty years between us just to come and arrest you, you scum!”

“How can that be...?”

“I wondered who was the maniac who was killing those women and tattooing them like that. It was you.”

“Ta... Tattooed ?” Spencer stammered, his wide eyes going from Harry to Gabriel.

“What? You're going to deny it again?”

“I... What's this about a tattoo?”

Harry held his breath. The panicked man really didn't seem to understand what he was getting at.

“You really don't know?”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” the suspect cried, retreating farther into the corner.

 _It’s not him_ . _It's not that scum_! the young Auror thought frantically. How could it be? All these coincidences, and it wasn't Spencer who did it. He turned his head towards Gabriel and met his confused gaze, the ringing in his ears more pronounced than ever.

  
  


“What do you mean, he's not the culprit?” Gabriel exclaimed, leaning with one hand on the back of his chair.

“If it was him, he would know about the tattoos,” Harry said with certainty.

“Are you really going to believe the words of this bastard? He's just pretending he doesn't know what you're talking about!”

“No, his eyes weren’t lying. He really didn't know anything about it. He's not the killer from thirty years ago.”

James and Dr. Adler were right, there were two killers. His premonition had turned out to be true.

“But then who is it, if not Spencer?” Jack intervened, visibly exhausted by this new twist.

“James was right. The murders of Julia Chaplin and Victoria Decker are different,” Harry said. “Spencer is not responsible for the cases with the tattooed dots. There's another killer out there.”

“So we have two serial killers on our hands ?” Rose asked in disbelief.

“I thought it was finally over,” Liam complained. “And you're adding one more?”

“I'm just wondering how Spencer knows about the details of the Foxton's murder…” Harry thought aloud.

“Because it's him!” Gabriel shouted desperately.

“No, it's not him!” the young Auror replied. He suddenly stopped, a thought running through his mind. “He saw it,” he breathed out.

“He saw what?”

“He didn't kill Elizabeth Bickford, but he witnessed her murder,” Harry said. “Her clothes, the exact location, the stockings as the murder weapon. He saw it all. That's why he knows! He's a witness!”

All the team members stared at him dubiously in silence.

It didn't matter to him; Harry knew he was right. He'd never been so certain of anything before, and he was going to prove it immediately. Without sparing a glance to his colleagues, he left the room and walked in a hurry to the holding cells. He searched frantically for Spencer, but couldn't find him. Panicking, he rushed to the Auror who was standing guard and came very close to making him eat the wall.

“Where's the prisoner?” he yelled. “Where is Donnie Spencer?”

“He's... He's in room number two!” the guard answered, panicked. “He's with his mother who came to visit him!”

Harry swore and then turned his head, his gaze drawn to a small blue package on the officer's desk. It was exactly what he needed.

“I'm borrowing this,” he said, grabbing it before heading to room two.

The young Auror approached the room and could hear Mrs. Spencer's voice through the slightly ajar door. He stopped to listen to what she was saying.

“You killed her,” the old woman said in a dry voice.

“Why do you say that?” the criminal asked just as abruptly.

“That's all you have to say to your mother after ten years? You shouldn't have been born as my son. Or you should have been human. You should have stayed in the hospital and died there. You continue to torture me, even today.”

“Why did you protect me then, at that time, by making up my alibi?”

“It wasn't for you, it was for me. I wanted to hide the fact that I had given birth to a murderer like you. Whether you're dead or alive, you're useless. Why don't you kill yourself? Why do you go on living? You have committed crimes, so pay for them now.”

When her tirade was over, she got up and walked towards the exit. She stopped suddenly and turned one last time towards Spencer.

“Don't leave here until you're dead.”

Harry returned to the office, Mrs. Spencer's words echoing in his head. He hadn't realized that her contempt for her son was so deep. It was now clear that she would be of no help to them in getting him to talk. His thoughts were interrupted when he met Gabriel in the hallway in the middle of a telephone conversation. He approached and nodded curiously to his partner. The latter mouthed the words "Dr. Adler" as he pointed to the device.

“You say Donnie Spencer is a witness?” the distant voice of the doctor asked.

“I'm not sure, but Henry seems certain. What do you think?”

“Well... What did he say he saw?”

At the same moment Rose burst into the corridor; she had obviously run to join them.

“Lieutenant! Henry! Spencer says he wants to confess!”

Sitting facing the criminal in the interrogation room, Harry crossed his legs and stared at him without blinking. Spencer avoided his gaze and instead turned to Gabriel who was standing by the door with his arms folded.

“I wanted to tell you in person,” the suspect began. “You're right. I did kill her. I killed your mother.”

Harry’s eyes widened, as he was surprised by the sudden turn of events. The Lieutenant rushed up to Spencer and grabbed him by the collar of his jacket.

“What are you saying?”

“Let him go, Gabriel,” Harry said, standing up.

“Say that again. What did you do?”

“ _Please don't kill me_ …” Spencer recited in a monotonous voice.

“Hey, scumbag!” Harry called, trying to divert his attention.

“ _I have a child_ ,” the criminal continued, ignoring him. “ _A child_ …”

“Shut up!” Harry shouted.

He knew what Spencer was doing. He was trying to provoke the officer and his ploy seemed to work perfectly. _He wants Gabriel to lose control and hurt him, or worse_ , he realized. The Lieutenant threw the criminal violently against the wall and then pressed his forearm against his throat. Harry rushed towards them to try to separate them.

“I will destroy you!” Gabriel hissed angrily. “I'm going to kill you!”

“Gabriel! He’s messing with you! He's just saying that to provoke you! Don't be fooled!” Harry exclaimed, desperately pulling his partner's arm.

“You look so pathetic,” Spencer said. “So I decided to confess for your sake. There's a statute of limitations anyway!”

“You bastard!”

“Gabriel!”

In a final effort, Harry finally managed to separate them. He pushed the Lieutenant towards the door.

“Get out. Get out! Stay out!”

He was about to close the door when Rose hurriedly handed him a purple file.

“The results of the blood test,” she whispered to the young man.

He grabbed the file and closed the door. He found himself alone in front of Spencer who had sat down again and rubbed his neck with exaggerated grimaces. The Auror quickly went through the medical report and then dropped it on the table and turned his attention to the suspect.

“So you killed Elisabeth Bickford, huh?”

“I just said that,” Spencer grunted.

Harry nodded his head with a knowing pout. He then began to search his jacket pocket.

“What an emotional day. Do you want a cigarette?” he asked, taking the little blue packet out of his clothes and presenting it to the suspect.

“I don't smoke.”

“Come on, don't fuck with me. I know you smoke.”

“It's bad for your health,” Spencer replied, looking at him with a nasty look on his face. “You should quit, if you want to live a long life.”

“Okay, you’re right. There's no trace of nicotine in the results of your blood test. You don't smoke.”

“I told you that-”

“Elisabeth Bickford,” the young Auror interrupted. “You didn't kill her, did you?”

“What?”

“It wasn't you,” Harry declared with a satisfied look. “I saw the culprit smoking. It can't be you, if you don't smoke. You didn't kill her. You just witnessed her murder.”

Spencer looked up sharply and stared at Harry.

“What are you talking about? I killed her. I _did_ kill her.”

“You're the witness, aren't you?” the investigator insisted.

The criminal didn’t answer anything. He lowered his head, and his hands began to shake.

“I killed her,” he mumbled. “I killed her. I did it myself! I did it!” he ended up shouting.

Harry got up suddenly, grabbed him by the collar and hoisted him over the table.

“What did you see, you bastard?!” he snapped. “You saw the murderer's face, didn't you?”

“I killed her!”

“That's all bullshit! Who's the murderer? Who was it?!”

“It was me! It was me!”

“You bastard!”the young Auror yelled, shaking him. “Tell me the truth!”

“I killed her! I killed her! I killed her! I killed her!”

The Aurors burst into the small room and separated the two men, who continued to shout louder than each other. Spencer was subdued with the help of a _Stupefy_ before being taken to his cell. A colleague tried to put his hand on Harry's shoulder and received an angry look back that clearly contained the threat of a bite if he touched him.

The adrenaline subsided, and he wobbled on his legs. He signalled to the Aurors present that he was alright. However, the moment he left the room, the ringing in his ears became deafening, he felt the floor slipping away from under his feet and then suddenly the Department disappeared. Everything around him was white. White and empty. He was beginning to panic when he heard Rose's distant voice.

“Henry? Can you hear me?”

“Wassat?”

He ran a hand over his face and blinked several times. Like last time, his blurred vision cleared and the worried faces of his teammates appeared. He was sitting in his chair, in front of his desk, without remembering how he got there. He frowned, his mind still confused.

“You should really look after your health, you know,” Rose commented as she examined him.

“Have I fainted again?”

“It's not really a fainting,” the young woman replied.

“It's more like an absence,” Liam continued. “You looked completely lost. You didn't recognize us, and you didn't know where you were.”

“And then, all of a sudden, your eyes went blank...,” Rose said, waving a hand in front of her eyes.

“... And you're back. It's really strange. Haven't you been hit by any spells lately? No duels that we wouldn't know about? You haven't noticed anything else?”

“No,” Harry said to them, shaking his head. “Apart from those... Tinnitus that's always there, there's nothing. It must be stress and fatigue.”

The stress of the investigation, the arrest of Spencer, the mystery of time travel... There were so many reasons to be nervous and tired, the young Auror thought. He thanked his colleagues for worrying about him, but assured them that he was feeling better now.

  
  


The next day, Donnie Spencer was transferred to Azkaban under heavy guard. The members of the Violent Crimes Section were given an afternoon off and Harry chose to spend his free time at Gabriel's apartment. Since the officer had invited him home, he had decided that he could invite himself over unexpectedly, much to his host's dismay. After all, his flat was much warmer than Henry Cooper's, and he needed to keep his mind occupied; annoying the Lieutenant was the best way to pass the time.

Lying on the comfortable couch in the living room with one leg over the backrest, the young Auror was captivated by a quidditch match broadcast on a wizarding-cable channel. Gabriel joined him, two cans of Butterbeer in hand, and pushed him unceremoniously to sit down.

“Sure, make yourself at home,” he muttered before handing him one of the drinks. “Here, a Semi-salted-Stout.”.

“Thank you, Gaby,” Harry replied, accepting it before settling back into the cushions.

“Don't call me _Gaby_. Are you going to go home afterwards?”

“Why? Isn't my company an absolute delight?”

“That's debatable.”

The match was coming to an end when Gabriel's phone suddenly vibrated on the coffee table. He pushed his partner, who had slumped on top of him, and bent down to pick it up.

“Gabriel!” Jack's panicked voice sounded. “Is Harry with you? I can't reach him!”

“Yes, I'm here!” the young man said without moving from the couch.

“Have you seen the news?!”

Harry sat up and the two Aurors looked at each other, suddenly alert.

“What? What's going on? What is it?” Gabriel asked hastily.

Harry waved his wand to go on the wizarding news channel.

“Spencer!” Jack announced. “He killed himself!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even more drama! Damn it, they're never gonna solve this case at this rate! ^^  
> Only 6 chapters left to unravel all the mysteries!  
> Thank you for continuing to read this story, and thank you for your heart-warming messages!  
> I wish you all a Merry Christmas and happy holidays, take care of yourself and your loved ones! ✧(⌒ᴗ⌒)*✲ﾟ*｡⋆


	20. -20-

It had only been a few hours since he had been taken to his dark and cold cell when a guard came to warn him that he had a visitor. Curious, wondering who might want to meet him, Donnie let himself be guided to the visiting room. Accompanied by his two guards, he crossed the damp corridors of Azkaban, where he could hear the roar of the waves crashing against the foundations of the fortress.

The three men finally arrived at their destination. The guards signalled to the criminal to sit on one of the two empty chairs in the centre of the naked room. They then set up a magic barrier that divided the room in two and then walked away with a dry “ten minutes, no more”.

Donnie only had to wait a few moments and then the door on the other side of the barrier opened, revealing a middle-aged man who stepped forward and sat down in front of him. His dark hair was neatly combed back and, in silence, he took off his glasses, rubbed them with a small cloth handkerchief and slipped them back over his straight nose. He then put the cloth back in the pocket of his elegant wizard's robe. The criminal frowned. He had never seen his visitor before.

“What do you want? Do you know me?” he asked abruptly.

“Yes,” the man nodded. “I've heard you're a witness in a case that happened thirty years ago.”

His voice was calm and clear. His piercing gaze was making Donnie uncomfortable.

“That's not true,” he said. “Are you a journalist? What do you want to know? Did you come to ask me how I killed them?”

His interlocutor let out a small laugh.

“Yes, I want to know. How did you kill them?”

Did he want to satisfy his curiosity? Alright then. Donnie was going to play along.

“First, I gagged them.”

“You didn't like to hear them,” the man nodded. “What was next?”

“I tied their hands and feet.”

“With stockings.”

“You’re well informed. It's strong enough to be stretched. I also strangled them with stockings. I tightened them once, twice, three times... Again and again,” Donnie repeated with a smile.

“They were strangled only once,” his visitor intervened dryly.

The smile faded from the criminal's face.

“Yes. Only once.”

Without adding a word, Donnie approached the protective field and stared at the person he was talking to for a long time. His gaze glided along his silhouette and he noticed the two pens sticking out of the breast pocket of his outfit. One of them had an inscription in gold lettering.

“It was you,” he laughed.

He was a monster, but he also knew how to recognise those who looked like him. If the little Auror was who he claimed to be, it promised an interesting sequel.

“You hide well, but I can see you. Oh, yes, I see you. Who will recognise the other one first? Who will catch the other one first?” he wondered aloud. “Merlin, I'm really curious.”

“Let me tell you an amusing story,” the man said, imperturbably.

“Amusing?”

“You were arrested for the murders of seven women. Even if you deny the charges, even if the prosecutor does not have enough evidence against you, you will be indicted with at least one or two murders. What will the sentence be? Twenty-five years? Thirty years?”

He paused briefly, and a smile stretched his thin lips.

“No. You'll be locked up here for the rest of your life. Trapped, like when you were in the mental hospital.”

Donnie couldn't take his eyes off the man in front of him. His body began to shake with the memory of those years spent in his little cell at St Mungo, sweat began to bead on his forehead. His visitor slowly leaned forward and placed his chin on his folded hands.

“You will be locked up, isolated, in a cell of barely four square metres. In this tiny room you will eat, sleep, eat and sleep again. There will be no escape, not even when you close your eyes or in your dreams. Your only company will be the Dementors…”

“Who are you?” Donnie snapped abruptly, as he began to feel the anguish overwhelming him.

The man moved back into his chair and smiled at him, revealing his white teeth.

“Did you have time to realize yet? Will you be able to bear it? You will never get out of isolation. You will never feel the wind or the sun on your skin again…”

Memories of the psychiatric hospital, of his mother's words, of the loneliness rushed through his mind. No. He didn't want to go through that again. He couldn't. The walls of the room closed in on him. His breathing turned shaky, and a drop of sweat slid down his spine.

“You can only get out of here when you're dead,” the man said.

He laughed, stood up, gave him one last mocking look and then left.

***

Harry ran through the corridors of the Ministry, Gabriel on his heels, ruthlessly shoving everyone in his path. Together they pushed open the doors of the Department and joined the rest of the team, already gathered around a guard from Azkaban.

“What the hell happened?” the young Auror exclaimed.

“What do we know? Are we sure it was suicide?” Gabriel asked impatiently after him.

“Yes, it’s a suicide,” Jack confirmed. “Death by asphyxiation, apparently. Spencer hung himself with shreds of his prisoner's robe. An autopsy will still be performed.”

“Did anything special happen in Azkaban? He had no reason to end his life so suddenly,” Rose commented with her arms folded.

“He had only just arrived,” the guard replied. “What could have happened?”

“Did he leave anything behind?” Gabriel asked. “A will? A note?”

“I was going to tell you about it,” the guard said, rummaging through the pocket of his uniform from which he took out a folded and slightly crumpled piece of paper. “Auror Cooper?”

“That's me! Why?”

“He left a letter for you personally.”

“Why would he write to Henry?” Rose asked, confused.

“He was clutching it in his fist when he was found.”

Harry took the crumpled piece of paper and unfolded it. It was the page of a book, on which only one word was written in pencil.

“ _Noël_? What does it mean?”

His colleagues repeated the word, either shrugging their shoulders or frowning, and everyone looked at each other, perplexed.

Now feeling idle, the Aurors didn't know where to start. Spencer's note was incredibly cryptic, and no one had any idea what it could mean. Gabriel insisted on visiting Dr. Adler and informing him of the latest events, arguing that the Healer had often helped him in seemingly unsolvable investigations. Harry decided to go with him for lack of a better idea.

At the end of the morning, the two Aurors knocked on the door of the coroner's office and entered. They found the latter standing in front of the large window, looking out over the sunny street below, a cup of tea in his hand and a broad smile on his face.

“You seem to be in a good mood,” Gabriel commented as he closed the door behind him.

“Mh,” the Doctor nodded. “The weather is nice and mild. What brings you here so early in the morning?”

He served a cup of tea to his two guests and then sat behind his desk.

“Spencer committed suicide so suddenly and now we'll never know what he saw that day,” Gabriel said as he swirled his tea into his cup. “There was a chance he saw the murderer's face.”

“You're right, it's frustrating. But how did you find out that he witnessed the murder? Did he brag about it?”

“No. He insisted to the end that he was the killer. The one who figured out he was a witness was Henry.”

“Auror Cooper?” Adler asked with a surprised expression before turning his head towards the young man in question.

“What about it? Is that so surprising?” Harry replied defensively. “The real murderer was smoking in the tunnel, but Spencer never touched a cigarette in his life. So it wasn't him.”

The coroner nodded slowly, frowning. “And how do you know he was smoking in the tunnel? It's a detail from a case that happened over thirty years ago.”

“Oh, uh. Ah.”

Harry cursed his stupidity. The two Aurors looked at each other with embarrassment while the Healer watched them intently. Gabriel's phone suddenly began to vibrate, and he apologised as he stood up to take the call. Harry turned to Dr. Adler who was still staring at him.

“What? Do you have something to say?”

“No. No, it's nothing. It's just that looking back, you remind me of an Auror I knew a long time ago,” the coroner replied with a condescending smile.

Harry squinted his eyes and the two men looked at each other silently until Gabriel called out to his partner and said, “We've got to go.”

  
  


“James thinks that witnessing my mother's murder triggered something in young Spencer,” Gabriel explained to his colleagues back at the department. “And when he started killing, he copied the modus operandi of the real culprit, like a copycat.”

“He was certainly right that there was a second murderer,” Harry added.

“But something's bothering me,” the officer continued. “Spencer wasn't the kind of personality prone to suicidal ideation, and if he had indeed planned to kill himself, he would have done so before he could be arrested. He killed himself after his interrogation. After being accused of being a witness.”

“Maybe it's a last game?” Rose tried. “He committed suicide without revealing anything but knowing that we were looking for the real culprit.”

“No. If it was, he wouldn't have left anything behind. However, he passed on a memo, addressed to Henry, moreover. Why did he do this?”

The members of the Violent Crimes Section turned to the board where the letter appeared next to Spencer's portrait.

“Since he committed suicide, the prosecutor is going to drop the other seven investigations and he won't be charged with those cases,” Jack announced with a hint of bitterness in his voice.

“The real murderer of Julia Chaplin and Victoria Decker still hasn't been arrested!” Harry was outraged. “They can't close the investigations!”

“We have to start all over again from the beginning,” Gabriel said, making the portraits of the young women appear on the transparent support.

“The investigation team has already been dismantled,” Jack replied.

“So what now? We just drop it?” Harry asked, feeling the anger rising.

“No. But we investigate discreetly. We avoid informing the Director for the time being, until we have something concrete. This investigation is linked to the murders that took place more than thirty years ago. We're going to end it now. We have to solve these cases…”

He paused for a few seconds, looking up at Harry before continuing.

“... If we want everyone to find their rightful place. We have the victims, the witness, but no criminal. Where do we start?”

In less than an hour, the table was completely filled with information on the cases from 1985-86. Harry added a final annotation on the tunnel murder and then turned to the team.

“First, we're going to look in detail at the previous cases. That's how we'll be able to identify the kind of person our suspect is and find commonalities with the most recent murders.”

“The Rookie's doing the briefings now, Chief?” Rose said from her chair.

“He said the Chief told him everything in detail the other day,” Liam intervened. “He knows everything.”

“Ah.”

“This is what Spencer said,” Harry continued, undistracted. “" _This is a case no one knows about, you won't find it in any file_ ". This is bullshit. The victims, the families and Jack know it. And so do I. This time we're going to get the son of a bitch.”

He turned to the board behind him and started scrolling through pictures of young women.

“In 1985, the first victim was found. Twenty-one years old Mindy Pinfield, a waitress in a pub on Diagon Alley, from Bristol. She was on her way home from a friend's house when she was killed. Three weeks later, Emily Browning was found dead. Like Pinfield, she had been strangled with nylon stockings, feet and hands bound. This is Lena Culbert.”

He saw Jack lower his head, unable to look at the portrait of the young woman. He himself felt guilty when he saw her smiling softly at the Aurors in front of her, having known her when she was alive.

“She was the daughter of the owner of a famous tea shop at that time. She worked there and had disappeared during one of her deliveries. She was found the next morning in a field. Same modus operandi, no trace left by the killer, the scene was impeccable. Next…”

Harry turned his head towards Gabriel. Without a word, Rose and Liam imitated him.

“…The fourth victim, Elisabeth Bickford. Twenty-six years old housewife. Spencer witnessed her murder. She was killed in the same way and that is why it was inferred that he was guilty. Claire Tenenbaum, fifth victim and survivor. Finally, the sixth and last victim, found in the tunnel near Linton. Briony Talbot, twenty-three years old, apprentice Healer. It was with her that we understood that it was one and the same culprit. The investigation was a total fiasco. It was already too late when we realised that these were serial murders. Searching for former criminals in the vicinity and interviewing acquaintances of the victims was not enough.”

“We may be a little late, but we're going to catch him!” Jack exclaimed. “What do the victims have in common?”

“All women, between twenty and twenty-six years old. Strangled with nylon stockings. Ink tattooed dots on their heels. The murders all took place at approximately the same time, nine o'clock in the evening. We would go to the crime scenes afterwards at that time to try to catch the culprit.”

“You went there?” Rose asked confusedly.

“No, he means the Chief went there,” Liam replied. “Follow a little.”

“Ah.”

“And thirty years later, Julia Chaplin became the seventh victim,” Gabriel intervened, coming forward next to Harry. “Victoria Decker, the eighth. The modus operandi is exactly the same, including the way the bodies are left in plain sight. They were found far from the roads, which is different from Spencer's crimes. It is likely that the murderer found his victims while walking.”

“So we need to know where Chaplin and Decker went on the days of their murders,” Jack said. “We need to find out where the murderer might have seen them, and we will find his hunting ground.”

“Almost all of them were on their way home,” Harry whispered as he looked at the board.

“But why did he start killing again thirty years later?” Rose asked. “Isn't it weird? There's a statute of limitations. He could have kept a low profile. Why take the risk of getting caught again?”

“Something will have provoked the bastard,” the young Auror answered.

“A trigger,” Gabriel added. “Something that made him react, otherwise he would never have come out of hiding.”

“What about concrete evidence?” their superior said. “We have Spencer's memo, " _Noël_ ", and the type of ink used by the killer to tattoo his victims, provided by Lavis Chemicals. We can try to retrace the steps of the last two victims before they died. Rose, Liam, go visit their families. Ask them if they know anything. Harry, Gabriel, you two focus on the meaning of this word, " _Noël_ ".

“Oh no, why do we have the hardest task?” Harry grumbled quietly.

This earned him a dark look from Jack and Rose gave him a mocking sign, forming an L with her fingers against her forehead.

“As for me,” the old Auror continued. “I'm going to find out about this ink. I'm sure it can be linked to his crimes. I'll catch him no matter what, this time,” he promised between his clenched teeth.

As Rose and Liam prepared to go out, Jack signalled Harry and Gabriel to follow him into the meeting room.

“We're going to have to call Professor Wellick again,” he said, turning to them. “But I just wanted to ask you, Harry, did something happen between you two? Why don't you talk to him anymore?”

The two young Aurors looked at each other, unsure how to break the news to him.

“Chief,” Gabriel started. “Professor Wellick, actually, it's…”

“His name is James Potter. He's my son,” the young Auror said.

The word sounded strange coming out of his mouth. Jack didn't react immediately. After a minute's silence, he leaned down on the large central table and closed his eyes for a few moments. He inhaled slowly and then exhaled, several times in a row.

“Merlin. I thought that nothing could surprise me anymore. I didn't know. Ginny... I never asked... Now that I think about it, there's an air of resemblance indeed,” he added before shaking his head. “But not really.”

“Do we really have to include him in the investigation?” Harry asked nervously.

He still didn't know how to react in front of James, and that made him anxious.

“We have no choice,” his superior replied. “For cases without material evidence like this, we need to profile the murderer accurately. The sooner we catch him, the sooner you can go home. How long do you plan to stay here?!”

“Oho!” the young man replied. “Calm your Thestrals! We have to do it right! We can't afford to botch things up!”

The two Aurors were staring at the board on which they had written " _Noël_ " in large capital letters, as well as what the word reminded them of. Harry had to admit, they hadn't had many ideas yet.

_Feast day: December 24th, Noël_

_Location: Noel Heights neighbourhood_

_Name: Noël. 12 sorcerers listed with this first name. Already questioned, without results._

The young Auror swallowed the last drops of coffee from his cup, then caught it between his teeth and leaned back into his chair. He tapped nervously on his desk with his index finger, trying to think what that bloody word could refer to. A little growl caught his attention and he moved Kevin over to place it under a ray of sunshine. Perhaps he should pay more attention to what he was feeding it, as the plant had tripled in size since its arrival in the Department.

When he leaned over, a metallic sheen blinded him slightly and he noticed that Rose had hung a necklace from her desk lamp. The sight of this jewel reminded him of Oona Chaplin's. Its pendant was in the shape of a cross, with the name " _Lucia_ " engraved on it. Her baptismal name, her middle name.

“Hey,” he said, turning to Gabriel. “What if it was a baptismal name? Or a middle name?”

“What?” his partner replied, seemingly emerging from the depths of his thoughts.

“Like Oona Simpson. You know, on her necklace.”

“Do you think it could be the murderer's middle name?”

“We've already questioned all the Wizards who were called Noël, but we haven't looked for those whose middle name was that. Spencer knew the murderer, maybe well enough to know those kinds of details. Or he saw it written down somewhere.”

“I'm going to ask the Ministry archives again for the list of Wizards with that name, this time specifying that we also want the ones with that middle name.”

The two Aurors combed through the registers, but only found two men who could fit the profile of the culprit. They decided to visit them without delay. The first on their list was quickly eliminated when they learned that he had been hospitalised in the Janus Thickey ward in St Mungo since he was twelve years old, as a result of a poorly executed confusion spell.

Their second visit took them to a small grocery shop located near a wizarding residential area. The manager, a middle-aged man in his fifties, slightly overweight and with an impressive moustache, welcomed them with good humour. He led them into the sunny backyard of his shop and offered them an Irish Butterbeer.

“Merlin, it's been a long time since I've used my middle name. I'd almost forgotten it!” he exclaimed in his thunderous voice.

“You're from the neighbourhood, aren't you?” Harry asked after a tasty sip of beer.

“Yes, I was born and raised here.”

“So you remember the young women who were murdered around here thirty years ago?”

“That's… What are you getting at?” the shopkeeper asked, suddenly on his guard.

“Do you smoke?”

“Yes, I do. Why do you ask that?”

“Can you provide an alibi for December 16 and January 7?” Gabriel intervened.

The man looked at them without answering and then motioned for them to follow him inside. He showed them the surveillance camera recordings from his shop, with the date and time displayed on the screen.

“I never leave my shop.”

Harry let out a grunt of frustration and banged his notebook against his forehead.

“Maybe I was completely wrong,” he mumbled. “Noël’s not his middle name. Maybe the freak just liked Christmas.”

“Why are you looking for someone with Noël as their middle name?” the grocer asked curiously.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Gabriel said without answering him.

The two Aurors were about to leave the shop when the man called out to them. “I knew someone who was also called Noël!”

“Pardon?”

“When I was young, maybe eight or nine years old, there was a community centre for wizarding children in the neighbourhood. There was another boy, older than me, whose middle name was Noël. It's not common, so I remember well.”

“We didn't have anyone else on our list,” Gabriel said, frowning. “What was his name?”

“Oh, it's been so long…” he answered, scratching his head. “His full name... No, I don't recall. But he was strange.”

“What was strange?”

“I remember there was a handyman. A veteran of the First Wizarding War. He often boasted about how many Death Eaters he had killed in those days. He would tell us what spells he had used… He even showed us his tattoo on his leg, which showed the number of people he had killed.”

“A tattoo?”

“Yes, a tattoo. And that boy was the only one who really listened to him. He spent a lot of time with him.”

“This handyman, do you know where he is now?”

“Oh, he died a long time ago.”

“Is there anyone who might know where that boy is now?”

“That was years ago. I don't think so, no. I don't think he's ever even been to Hogwarts.”

The last rays of the sun were breaking through the low clouds when Harry and Gabriel returned to the Ministry. They told the rest of the team what they thought they had found out about the mystery word.

“So Noël could be a middle name?” Jack asked sceptically.

“We've gone through the Ministry's records of everyone with that name, but we haven't found anyone suspicious,” Gabriel replied.

“You forget what the grocer said!” Harry exclaimed, patting him on the shoulder.

The old Auror turned to him, as did Liam and Rose.

“There's no trace of them in the archives, but there's someone else with that middle name,” the young man continued with a conspiratorial look on his face.

“Really?” Rose blurted, leaning over her desk towards him. “Who is it?”

“It's up to us to find out,” he replied.

“Seriously?!” the young woman exclaimed, raising her arms to the sky. “Henry, you're going to have to work on your sense of revelation!”

“And what about you?” their superior asked, looking at Liam and Rose. “Did you find anything useful in questioning the victims' acquaintances?”

“Chaplin's roommate told us that she sometimes went to the banks of the Thames when she felt frustrated, especially after work,” the blond-haired Auror explained. “She had called her that evening to tell her she was going for a walk before she went home. She was thinking about quitting. That was the last time they spoke to each other.”

“Victoria Decker's classmates didn't tell us much,” Rose added. “They left early that night because they had a test the next day. Victoria used to stop at the playground for one last cigarette before going home. None of them noticed anything unusual that day.”

“There was also no video surveillance system in these areas. The killer had to follow them and wait for the right moment when they were alone,” Liam concluded.

“In short, you have no idea where they were when the suspect started following them?” Jack recapitulated.

“That's right,” the two team members nodded.

“Oh, Merlin,” the old Auror mumbled, running a hand over his face with a weary gesture.

Their meeting was interrupted by the sudden arrival of a Supervisor Auror who shouted angrily, “What are you doing?”. The members of the team hurriedly blurred the information on the board and looked as innocent as possible before turning to him.

“You could knock!” Jack snapped.

The man turned to one side and then to the other with exaggerated movements. “Are you kidding me?” he replied, placing his hands on his hips. “Do you see a door somewhere? Why aren't you with the others in the raid on the Dingles Brothers warehouse? Just because you've arrested a serial killer, you think you're above a contraband bust?”

“We also have the right to rest!” the old Auror defended himself. “We deserve a holiday, not a reprimand.”

“The suspect is dead. You don't deserve a holiday. Go join the others. They need reinforcements!” the Supervisor ordered, then he turned around and walked away, in a whirlwind of crimson robes.

The five investigators let out a concert of sighs after he left.

“Is it our fault that Spencer's dead?” Rose asked, raising her arms. “We're the ones that are the most frustrated in the story!”

“Let's go out there and pretend to help them,” Jack said. “Rose, Liam, you're coming with me. Here Harry…”

“Henry,” the young woman interrupted.

“Henry?” their superior repeated.

“Huh?” the interested party said eloquently.

“You said " _Harry_ ", Chief. And that’s not the first time.”

“Fatigue, surely,” he replied, shaking a hand before turning to Harry. “Here. The list of objects that use Lavis ink. Take a look at it. Let me know if you find anything,” he added, turning to Gabriel. “We're going.”

He finished his sentence while dragging Rose and Liam along behind him, the two of them grumbling and dragging their feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Publishing the chapter where they’re investigating a guy named Noel on christmas day… I swear I didn’t do it on purpose! ^^


	21. -21-

The door of the Department closed, and Harry and Gabriel were left alone in the empty premises. The young Auror folded the sheet of paper Jack had just given him and put it in his jacket pocket then turned to his partner. The latter was about to put on his cloak, obviously about to leave.

“Where are you going?”

“I'm going home.”

“Home?”

“My home. Without you. Don't follow me!” the officer added, seeing Harry following in his footsteps.

He walked towards the door, imitated by the young man.

“I told you not to follow me!”

“I'm not following you!”

They walked on in silence.

“How do you feel about Indian tonight?” Harry asked him as they arrived at the entrance to the Department.

“I told you-”

Gabriel stopped when the door opened before he could touch it. The two Aurors were surprised to come face to face with their usual forensic expert.

“Oh! Dr. Adler!” the Lieutenant exclaimed. “What brings you here at this hour?”

“A matter to be dealt with at the Department of Health,” the doctor replied with a smile. “I thought I'd pay you a little visit, it was on my way. But I wasn't sure you would still be here.”

Gabriel invited him to sit down for a few moments at their desks, and they started talking about idle things. Harry started pacing as he watched the coroner, with an annoyed pout on his face. He was tired and hungry and wanted to go home. Why did the coroner suddenly have to come and stick his nose in things that were none of his business? The closer he got to him, the more suspicious the young man became.

“Do you have a new case?” the Doctor finally asked, glancing at the still blurred information on the board.

“No,” Gabriel replied. “We're still looking for the real murderer of the 1985-86 cases. Since he has started killing again, we really want to arrest him this time.”

“But you're missing evidence, aren't you?” the coroner commented. “For past cases as well as for the most recent ones?”

As he finished his question, he walked towards the board to try to discern what was written there. However, before he could get too close, Harry stepped in, forced to raise his head to maintain eye contact.

“The details of the case should not be shared with anyone outside the investigation team,” he said dryly.

Adler didn't answer, but smiled at him. “Alright,” he finally said, turning to the Lieutenant. “Call me if I can do anything to help.”

As the doctor turned around, something in the breast pocket of his robe reflected the light and caught Harry's eye. A fountain pen. It wasn't the first time the young Auror had noticed it; he didn't know many people who kept their pens in their pockets. Adler finally left and Gabriel turned to his partner.

“Hey, don't you think we should share our information with everyone who might be able to help us?”

“Didn't you hear what Jack said? Secret! And now we're going home! I'm too hungry to think about anything else!”

  
  


Harry sat down at his desk, put his coffee with the unpronounceable name on the table and settled down to enjoy it; a simple morning treat before a hard day's work. This was the exact moment chosen by the Azkaban guard to call the Aurors and pass on the results of Spencer's autopsy.

“He did commit suicide. The report is indisputable,” the Wizard said, his face licked by the green flames of the fireplace. “But there is something else. He had a visitor the day he died.”

“A visitor?!” the young Auror exclaimed, forgetting his bad mood. “Who was it?”

“A Mr. Adler,” the guard replied, lowering his eyes, as if to verify his information. “Nicholas Adler.”

Harry exchanged a glance with Gabriel, who seemed just as bewildered as he was.

“Why did he go there? Why didn't he tell us?”

“Yes, I went to see him,” Dr. Adler said calmly, sitting behind his mahogany desk.

“What for?” Harry asked abruptly. “Why did you go to see him?”

“I was curious.”

“Curious about what?”

“Is this an interrogation?” the coroner replied, before letting out a laugh. 

The latter straightened in his wide chair and folded his hands in front of him. “I've told you about it before,” he said condescendingly. “The cases of Victoria Decker and Oona Simpson were different. Miss Simpson was repeatedly strangled, hence the marks of congestion on her face. Miss Decker was killed in one move. I went to see Donnie Spencer to ask him about it. I wanted to know if I was right.”

Harry stared at him without saying a word, trying not to let any emotion show on his face.

“What did he say?” Gabriel asked with interest.

“I was right. He told me that when he killed Miss Simpson, he had strangled her several times. My assumption that there were two different killers was correct.”

The young Auror, who had started to peel off a label from one of the notebooks in front of him, looked up and met the coroner's eye.

“And he killed himself just after your visit,” he said in a neutral voice.

“Henry-,” his partner tried to intervene.

“Why did you go in secret?” Harry continued, ignoring him.

“No need to be so hostile, Auror _Cooper_ ,” Adler replied, emphasizing his name. “Am I obliged to report my every move to you?”

“What are you getting at, Henry?” Gabriel asked, frowning.

“Why did Spencer kill himself right after they met?”

“He just answered you. Excuse him Doctor, he's like that sometimes. We're going to go now. Thanks again for your time.”

The Lieutenant got up and tapped the young man on the shoulder. The latter did not move and sat staring at the coroner.

“That's enough. Come on, now,” the officer insisted.

Harry got up very slowly and walked out of the room, maintaining eye contact with the Healer until Gabriel retraced his steps and pushed him to close the door behind him.

  
  


They were having lunch at their desk when James called Gabriel. He took the call over the loudspeaker, glanced at Harry and continued to eat his leftover chicken tikka masala.

“I was calling for a particular reason,” the young professor said after several minutes of exchanging small talk with the officer. “As I went through the chronology of all your investigations over the last few months, I noticed something.”

“What?” Harry couldn't help himself but ask as he swallowed his bite.

“You found Claire Tenenbaum's leg, and a few weeks later, Julia Chaplin was killed. The murderer didn't know Tenenbaum had survived all those years. Is it possible that this could have been what triggered the need to kill again in him? But if he only knew that she had only recently died, that means…”

“... That he’s very close to us,” Gabriel ended the sentence, meeting his partner's eyes.

The Department of Aurors counted around forty employees, about twenty of whom were men. Their portraits were displayed on the board, and the team of the Violent Crimes Section requisitioned the meeting room for more discretion.

“Here’s the list of the Aurors involved in any way in the case of Claire Tenenbaum,” Gabriel declared. “I have also added the technicians from the forensic service. According to James, this investigation would have been the trigger for the other murders. Julia Chaplin was killed a few weeks after the discovery of Tenenbaum's leg.”

“So you think the culprit is among these men?” Harry asked as he scanned the portraits without finding the face he had in mind.

“Only the Aurors who worked on the case are aware that Sophie Lloyd's real name was Claire Tenenbaum. The details were never released to the press.”

“We can't be sure of anything, Gabriel,” Jack intervened, crossing his arms. “You know that it can cause more problems if we investigate our colleagues without concrete evidence?”

“That's exactly what I think!” Liam said. “Why would an Auror kill someone ?! He’s talking nonsense.”

“Let's go back to the facts first,” Gabriel continued, without letting himself be dismayed. “He committed his first murder thirty years ago. We can start with his age. We can fill in the missing pieces with the clues we already have.”

“I never thought I'd say this one day, but Lieutenant Douche is right, Chief,” intervened Rose. “We should at least try.”

“Alright,” the old Auror sighed. “But we're not going to confront them right away. We'll first check out the ones that might fit the suspect's profile.”

Everybody got up, ready to get to work, except Harry, who remained seated. Lost in thought, he tapped his lips with his fingertips and didn't see his colleagues leave the room. _Dr. Adler was the one who examined Tenenbaum's leg. Did he seem in shock that day?_ The young man could not remember. He turned his head and finally realised that he was alone. He decided to wait there until his team-mates returned with the files needed for the investigation.

In the space of about twenty minutes, a chaos of boxes and files invaded the small room.

“We can first eliminate all those who are under forty,” Jack announced, signaling to Gabriel.

The latter began to erase them with a wave of his wand and then stopped. “Who added our portraits?” he asked in an exasperated sigh.

“What? You said "everyone who was involved in the investigation,"” Harry replied innocently.

“Where did you even get that picture?” the Lieutenant mumbled as he approached the board. “I look awful in it.”

“You should be happy then, the photographer has managed to capture the real you,” the young Auror commented.

He narrowly dodged the paperweight which flew towards his head.

“You know what?” Gabriel said. “There's someone here who was also there at the time of the first murders…”

“Slander!” Harry immediately protested. “How dare you suspect our esteemed Chief?”

He dodged a second paperweight, internally praising his Seeker reflexes, and turned to Jack, with an indignant expression. “Why are you attacking me? I'm defending your honour!”

“My honour defends itself very well!” the old Auror replied before turning to the rest of the team. “Let's go back on track. We have to find their old addresses, find out when they started working at the Ministry…”

Without a word, Harry watched them get down to business, convinced that they were looking in the wrong direction. He knew no one would listen to him and continued to brood over his thoughts, turning and turning over in his head all the information he had about the Healer.

Finally, after several hours of hard work, Gabriel sighed and stepped back to look at the board where only two faces remained after the other Aurors had been gradually eliminated. The two portraits were of a forty-two years old man from Section One and a fifty years old man, a technician in the forensic medical service.

“What now, Chief?” Liam asked from behind his stack of files.

“Now, we're going to meet them.”

Harry had told Gabriel to go ahead, and he found himself alone again, staring at the letter left by Spencer on his desk in front of him. Under the soft light of his lamp, the words seemed to dance on the paper and mock him.

“Noël…” he whispered, tilting his head.

Suddenly, he began to fumble through his jacket pockets to pull out the paper with the list of items that used Lavis ink. He quickly went through it. There it was. Fountain pens Belle-Plume. He thought of the one he had seen in Dr Adler's pocket. He had seen an inscription on it, but was too far away to have been able to decipher it. He rose abruptly and turned his head. At last, he spotted an Auror in a nearby Section and called out to him.

“Hey! Do you know where I can find information about the employees of the forensic service?”

Half an hour later he was frantically leafing through the Healers’ records.

“1986… 1986…” he murmured as he searched through Dr. Adler's file. “He lived in Hilltop Garden. It's right next to Foxton. He didn't study at Hogwarts. He was an apprentice forensic scientist…”

He hit the table with his fist, causing an exclamation of surprise a little farther on in the Department. Kevin seemed to wake up and began to rock gently.

“It was him. Merlin, from the beginning it was that bastard. I'm sure of it now.”

He had to do something about it, right away. His colleagues hadn't come back yet, he would inform them later. Every word of the coroner was coming back to him. " _It takes time and effort to follow someone_ ", " _One thing is certain, the suspect is experienced. This is not the work of an amateur_ ", " _There is the possibility that the murderer is someone else_ ", " _Just because they were strangled with stockings, it doesn't necessarily mean that the murderer is the same person. Spencer kills for no specific reason_ ", " _He might have used a pen, something like this fountain pen_ ". He even showed them his own. The one with the inscription on it.

“He mocked us. He watched us while we played his game. But it's over now. I'm going to get him this time, that scum.”

He hurriedly left the Department, crossed the empty corridors and then the dimly lit Atrium and disapparated.

In the dark of night, the building that housed St Mungo stood menacingly in front of him. Harry walked through the main door and blinked his eyes to get used to the contrasting brightness of the hall. He went to the forensic department, which was empty at that hour and looked for Dr. Adler's office.

“ _Homenum Revelio_ ,” he murmured once in front of the closed door of the room.

The enchantment told him that he was alone. After taking a last look down the corridor, he unlocked the door. He entered and closed it without a sound behind him. His wand lit up the mahogany desk, on which jars filled with pens were placed in perfect order. The young man searched them all quickly. Whatever he was looking for had to be here; finding it was crucial.

Harry tried to open the drawers of the cabinet, but they refused to move. He straightened up and looked around the room in frustration. His gaze suddenly stopped on the beige Healer robes hanging on the coat rack by the bookcase. He approached briskly and finally saw it. The gleaming pen protruded from the breast pocket. He grabbed it and placed his wand over it to light it. The name " _Noël_ " was written in golden cursive letters that shone in the glow of his _Lumos_.

The young Auror could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest and closed his eyes for a moment. At last he had found it. His trembling fingers tightened a little more around the pen. Suddenly his phone, which he had forgotten he had, began to vibrate in his jacket pocket. Thinking it was probably Gabriel, who must have been irritated that he couldn't find it in the office, he picked it up.

“I know... Who you are,” a mocking voice said on the phone. “I think you also found out who I am.”

 _Adler_. How could that be possible? Was he watching him? Harry felt the fury rise inside him.

“You've been hiding so close to me all this time, you scum,” he replied in a voice more shaky than he would have liked.

“Who would have thought you were that Auror who chased me through the tunnel, the famous Harry Potter? You and I have an interesting connection, don't you think?”

“What? _Interesting_?! Do you think it's interesting?!” the young Auror shouted.

“Calm down, calm down. I don't think you're in a position to shout at me like that.”

“You can't even imagine how much I've dreamt of getting my hands on you,” Harry hissed angrily. “Why don't you come out of hiding now? Where are you now? Answer me!”

“Just come to the tunnel.”

“What?”

“We'll settle this where we first met. And if you don't want anything to happen to Lieutenant Corner or Professor Wellick, you'll come alone. I wouldn't want to have to kill anyone else because of you.”

“If you touch a single hair on their head, I'll kill you,” Harry promised. “I'll tear you to pieces! You, son of a-”

The call was cut off, and Harry froze for a moment in the silent office.

“That bastard!” he shouted, pounding the table with his fist.

Without thinking, he turned around and ran out of the room.

  
  


Harry apparated in the path leading to the tunnel. He stood still for a moment to catch his breath and look around. The moonless sky offered no source of light in the cold darkness and only a lamp post a little further away dimly lit up the surroundings with its orange glow. The wind made the bare branches of the trees around him dance, adding to the gloomy atmosphere. The young Auror grasped his wand firmly. He took a deep breath and raised his arm.

“ _Lumos_ ,” he murmured before entering the long dark corridor.

Dr. Adler stood there, a few metres in front of him. He nonchalantly held a cigarette to his lips and took a puff of it. He then dropped it and crushed it with his foot and turned to Harry. The two men watched each other silently and finally the Healer walked towards him.

“It's good to see you again, Auror Harry Potter,” he said in a honeyed voice.

“I suppose I'm just as glad to see you, you bastard,” the young man replied with venom.

The coroner smiled at his reply.

“So this is where you've been hiding all this time,” the young Auror continued. “To think that we spent all that time looking for you.”

“I'm curious, too. How can you be here? It can't be time travel …”

“What?”

“You're dead. I made sure I killed you. I checked, your body's still where I left it. At least what's left of it.”

A feeling of vertigo seized Harry, and the ringing in his ears became more pronounced than ever. What was that freak talking about? His hands began to shake, and he tried to control himself. “It doesn't make any sense. It’s impossible…”

“Don't you remember?” Adler asked with a laugh. “You fought valiantly, but it wasn't enough. I had heard rumours about you, your nicknames of ' _The Boy Who Lived_ ' and ' _The Man Who Refuses to Die_ '... It seems they were true!”

The young Auror had begun to shake his head frantically, his heart on the edge of his lips. He refused to accept the murderer's words.

“No, it can’t be…”

“Of course, I couldn't do as I did with these women. It wasn't the same. I hid you. I watched them desperately looking for you, but I was the only one who knew! I killed Harry Potter!”

“Enough!” the young man shouted, pointing his wand at the coroner. “Cut the crap!”

“You probably don't remember me from that time, but I was already by your side.”

Harry recalled that he had read this detail in the Doctor's file. It all became clear.

“The apprentice. You were Dr Lehmann's apprentice. You crazy bastard. You killed them and then performed their autopsies?!” he exclaimed, his features reflecting the pure disgust he felt.

“I could have lied about the cause of death, about the tattoos, but I never did. I'm not as deceitful as you think I am, Potter.”

The latter felt he was slowly losing his mind. The world around him wavered, and his vision became a white veil, the sound of bells ringing in his skull. He shook his head and pulled himself together. _Not now_. He turned his attention back to Adler, who was still looking at him with a delighted smile on his face.

“You don't look well,” the coroner commented with a falsely worried look.

“Shut up, you son of a bitch!” Harry shouted, throwing himself at him.

Slightly unbalanced, the Auror still managed to throw his fist against the Healer's temple. The latter straightened up sharply, with much more agility than Harry expected, given his age. Lightning fast, Adler slipped behind the young man and pinned him against his chest with his forearm against his throat. _He wanted to strangle him_. Harry wasn't going to let him do it obediently. He managed to free himself enough to bite him down to blood.

His assailant screamed in pain and quickly moved away. The Auror turned around, a _Stupefy_ on the edge of his lips. Just as the spell was cast, Adler grabbed his arm and pushed it up. The jet of red light crashed on the stone ceiling. The coroner took something out of his pocket, the distant glow of the lamp post outside reflecting on the small object.

Harry tried to free his arm from his opponent's iron fist, without success. He blindly sent desperate kicks towards the man. One of them hit his target, judging by the painful exclamation the coroner let out. His satisfaction was short-lived, as the hand holding his arm tightened even more, causing him to squirm involuntarily. With his attention focused on his upper limb, Harry didn't see the other hand of the Healer coming down on his neck. However, he did feel the sting that followed.

“Bastard!” he shouted as he finally managed to free himself. “What the hell was that?!”

Adler's laughter that echoed through the long cold corridor was his only answer.

Harry took a few wobbly steps back. He tried to raise his wand, but his arm was shaking, preventing him from aiming properly. His vision became blurred, his mind fogged up. Panic overtook him. He was not going to make it on his own. He had to run away. To call for help. His feet stumbled on the stone floor. When had he started running? It didn't matter, he had to get out of there. The weight of the phone in his pocket reminded him of its presence, and he somehow managed to get it out.

The screen lit up, but it seemed blurred to him. The young man tried to find Gabriel's name among his contacts. He lost his balance and the device slipped out of his sweaty hands. A cry of frustration passed through his lips between his panicked gasps. No time to pick it up, he could hear the coroner approaching at full speed. Finally, the exit of the tunnel appeared. He came out into the open air and tried to concentrate despite the cottony feeling in his mind. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and disapparated.

The sea spray that whipped his face viciously indicated to Harry that he wasn't at the Ministry. He opened his eyes and discovered a ledge by the sea, far from his intended destination. He swayed and held on to the small stone wall in front of him. A wave of nausea overwhelmed him, and he tried to control his breathing. His whole body was shaken with uncontrollable tremors. Whatever Adler had injected him with, he knew he had to get help as soon as possible. He let go of the wall and stepped out onto the road. He never felt his foot touch the ground; the world around him disappeared in a blinding explosion of whiteness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m updating this chapter earlier because I won’t be able to do so tomorrow.  
> Another plot twist! But the story isn’t over yet!  
> Hope you still like it! Don’t be afraid to leave a review! ✧(•̀ᴗ-)


	22. -22-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of Gabriel’s point of view for this chapter, which I really enjoyed writing!  
> I hope you’ll like it too!

Gabriel ran his hand through his hair with a weary gesture. He looked up at the big clock on the Department wall, then let his eyes slide to his partner's empty desk and sighed. It was typical of Henry to be late, but never that late. Visits to the two Aurors the day before had ended in failure and when he returned to the Department, the officer had found no trace of his young partner. He had tried to call him several times, in vain. And now he was slow to show up. There was no need to say, Henry Cooper, or rather Harry Potter, had a special gift for putting people in a bad mood, even before noon.

His thoughts were interrupted by the Supervisor's arrival, visibly furious, judging by his purple face and the turgid vein threatening to explode over his temple.

“Where is Sloper?” he shouted. “Sloper! Hey! What are you doing questioning your colleagues like that? Who ordered you to do it?”

“It's not... I'll explain everything to you,” Jack answered. “There's something I should have told you. About the murders that Spencer committed-”

“Enough! Why are you still investigating a closed case?”

“But it seems that there is not just one culprit…”

“Then who is it?! You must have found out, to go and cause all this commotion, eh?!”

“We haven't… Found him,” confessed Jack without daring to look at him.

“Merlin…” the angry man sighed before getting his act together. “Sloper. Stop, now. Is that understood?” Then he turned to the rest of the Aurors who were watching the scene in silence. “Have you all understood?!” he shouted to the assembly.

He left the department without another word followed by the frightened eyes of the staff.

“I knew this would happen,” Liam mumbled. “Wellick is wrong. The culprit isn't an Auror!”

“Stop adding fuel to the fire,” Rose reprimanded him, hitting him on the back of the head.

“I'm just upset! We're so close, but we're still failing miserably.”

The young woman shook her head and then approached the board, making the information reappear clearly with a wave of her wand. She watched it silently for a moment and then turned to Jack.

“Chief, these are the only clues we have. We should start again by adding all the Aurors who arrived here just before 2016. What do you think?”

None of his colleagues answered, too busy looking gloomy. She knocked on the desk closest to her.

“Oy! Can anyone hear me? Why aren't you answering? Alright, that's enough now!” she finally cried out. “Do I have to do like Liam and start yelling at you?”

At last her teammates looked at her, surprised by her burst of voice. Jack was the first to break the silence by letting out a laugh, quickly imitated by Liam then Rose, and even Gabriel.

“She's right,” Liam said. “This case wouldn't have lasted thirty years if it had been so easy to solve. Chief, Lieutenant, let's do it! We managed to catch Donnie Spencer after all! I know we will succeed, I can smell it.”

“Everyone here knows you can smell things like no one else, Liam,” Gabriel replied with a smile. “Let's do it. Let's solve this together.”

Rose sniffed loudly and pretended to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. “He's one of us at last,” she whispered proudly.

“Things are getting quiet again in the Department, and Henry isn't here…” Liam commented with a sigh.

As the Lieutenant turned his head to his partner's unoccupied desk, an unpleasant feeling slowly settled in the pit of his stomach.

  
  


Accompanied by Jack, Gabriel went to Henry's house in the morning; the young Auror still hadn't shown up and wasn't answering any of his team-mates' calls.

“He didn't come home last night,” the building's concierge told them when they questioned her. “He didn't come home at all last night, to tell the truth.”

The Aurors looked at each other, worried. They asked the woman for the keys and inspected the young man's flat. The main room was a mess, which was, considering how little belongings Henry had, a feat. There were boxes in the living room that had not yet been unpacked and a chair covered with discarded clothes; his entire wardrobe seemed to be there.

On a small desk near the window, Gabriel found photographs visibly cut out of magazines or newspapers. Portraits of Ginny, Ron and Hermione, one of James, and even a group photo of their Auror team, taken the day Spencer was arrested. However, he couldn't find any clues that would have helped them find him. The young officer made another unsuccessful attempt to call Henry's phone.

“His phone is off,” he sighed, turning to his superior.

“When was the last time you saw him?” the latter asked. “Weren't you with him last night?”

He thought back to the day before. Just after the meeting, he was about to leave the office to visit one of the suspicious Aurors, but Henry hadn't moved from his chair. He had just told the officer to go ahead. That was the last time he saw him. His anxiety intensified.

“That means no one has spoken to him since,” Jack realized. “We should try to locate his phone and trace his calls. He has nowhere to go in this time. He disappeared suddenly like that thirty years ago. He has a talent for getting into trouble, that's probably what happened.”

“His last call was received at twelve past nine in the evening,” Liam said, handing him a list with the incoming and outgoing numbers on Henry's phone. “But it was from a prepaid mobile phone.”

“Prepaid?” Jack asked, looking up at his subordinate.

“Yes. His phone was turned off at seven past ten, not far from this lock,” he added, pointing his wand at the map of the city on the board.

“That means he disappeared after receiving that call,” Rose commented, rubbing her chin.

“I'm going to go here first,” said Gabriel, pointing to the lock.

“I'm coming with you,” Jack replied. “We'll try to find out if there's a place he could have gone not far from here. Liam, Rose, see if anyone remembers seeing him here last night, and if not, try to get hold of Muggle CCTV footage near the Ministry and this lock. And above all, not a word about his disappearance.”

“Who has disappeared?” a voice suddenly asked behind them.

Gabriel turned around and saw James approaching them, a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes.

Jack, Gabriel and James, who had insisted on helping them once he was made aware of the situation, apparated in a deserted street not far from the lock. In the clear sky, the sun was shining and making the almost motionless surface of the river shimmer. The Lieutenant observed the scene, imitated by his acolytes. He turned and followed with his eyes a path that went up along the sloping ground, surrounded by bare trees, to a familiar stone arch.

“Chief!” he called out to him with a sign. “The tunnel!”

The three men ventured into it in silence. Their footsteps echoed on the stone and they took out their wands to light the dark corridor that the sun's rays seemed unable to penetrate. Jack tried to cast an _Appare Vestigium_ , but nothing happened. Was there a chance that the young Auror had found a way back to the past?

“No,” Gabriel whispered, feeling his heart beating wildly. “That's impossible. He said it didn't work, no matter how many times he tried.”

“What if this time he had succeeded?” Jack whispered with an uncertain look.

His phone suddenly rang and he picked it up. Rose's voice rose from the device.

“Chief, we managed to find his tracks, but they seem strange, as if they were erratic.”

“Why is that?”

“He rushed out of the Ministry, apparated to St Mungo from where he ran out a little later before disapparating again.”

“All right. Thanks for the info. See you at the Department.”

He turned to Gabriel who looked at him with a confused look.

“St Mungo? Why did he go there?”

“Let's go to the office. We won't learn anything more here,” the old Auror said. He then turned his gaze to the other end of the tunnel. “It would be better for him if he had actually gone back to the past,” he murmured.

“To the past?” Professor Wellick asked, whose presence they had forgotten. “What does that mean?”

James scanned the faces of the two Aurors, waiting for an answer that was taking time to come.

“James,” Gabriel began, putting a hand on his arm. “I think it's time I told you the truth.”

  
  


The murmurs of conversation filled the silence that had settled between Gabriel and James, sitting face to face in the small muggle pub that the Auror had chosen. The young professor shook his head and let out a dubious laugh in a breath.

“You're kidding me, aren't you?” he finally asked the Lieutenant, meeting his eyes. “1986?”

“I know it's hard to believe. It seems impossible,” Gabriel replied. “I had a hard time accepting it, too, but it's the truth. The memories he showed me… He found himself in 2016 after chasing the suspect thirty years ago in that tunnel. He was convinced that he would be able to get home if he solved the case. More than anything else, he wanted to be reunited with his wife and family.”

“He disappeared while investigating this case… Thirty years ago,” James repeated with a frown.

A new silence crept into the conversation. The officer knew that his friend was not stupid. He could clearly see him making the connections, his face going through a succession of emotions and finally staring at him sceptically. James opened his mouth and then closed it several times before finally speaking.

“You're telling me… His name isn't Henry Cooper, is it?” he asked in a trembling voice.

“No, it isn't.”

“What is his name?”

“I think you guessed it.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

The Lieutenant looked down without answering immediately.

“Harry Potter,” he finally breathed.

James turned his head, his eyes suddenly shining brightly and frantically sweeping across the room. “No,” he whispered. “It can't be.”

He rose abruptly and his leg slammed against the table, making the dishes clink. “It’s nonsense. I can't… I have to go.”

“James...,” Gabriel began, standing up as well.

But he didn't make any movement to try and catch up with the professor. He remembered only too well how he had felt when he had learned the truth. He knew James needed time, and without a word he watched him leave.

  
  


_8:38 pm: leaves the Ministry._

_8.43 pm: enters St Mungo._

_9:16 pm: leaves St Mungo._

On the CCTV images that were playing in a loop in a corner of the board, Henry Cooper's small silhouette would appear and then start running, in pursuit of something that only the young man knew.

“Why did he go to St Mungo?” Gabriel wondered aloud as he watched the film. “We don't know anyone there except Dr. Adler.”

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Rose and Liam who sat down at their desks and sighed.

“So?” Jack asked impatiently. “Did you find anything?”

“After disapparating from the hospital, there's not a trace of him anywhere,” Liam replied, shaking his head.

The old Auror looked up at Gabriel. He knew they were thinking the same thing. Henry had never come out of the tunnel.

“He still couldn't have just vanished into thin air,” Rose intervened. “Where can he be?”

Jack closed the meeting room door behind him and turned to face the Lieutenant.

“I'm sure he went back to the past,” the Chief said.

“If he had, he wouldn't have left without saying goodbye,” Gabriel argued. “He couldn't have.”

“He disappeared without warning thirty years ago! We all thought he was dead, but he was here all along! It's the same, this time! I'm sure he went through the tunnel and into the past. It's a pity we couldn't exchange farewells, but it's better this way. He should have gone back sooner.”

Gabriel disagreed. Something was bothering him in this case, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. He was worried about the young Auror. He had to find him at all costs.

“Let's focus instead on identifying our suspect,” Jack pursued. “You never know when he'll get the urge to kill again…”

Without listening to the rest, the officer turned around and left the Department.

  
  


With a clearer mind, Gabriel returned to the Department a few hours later. Most of his colleagues were on their way out or had already left, and he realised that the early evening was well underway. As he walked past the door, he stopped to go through the Staff Register, where the comings and goings of the employees were automatically recorded. There he found the name of an Auror who had been present the evening before at the same time as Henry.

“Oh yes, I saw him last night,” the man replied when questioned by the Lieutenant. “Cooper asked me where he could find the records of the forensic personnel.”

“Forensic personnel?” the officer repeated, frowning.

“He wanted the one of one particular forensic scientist… Alderson? Albert?”

“Dr. Adler?”

“That's it! He said it was very urgent. Once he picked them up, he read the files for a while before he ran out the door.”

Gabriel rushed to his partner's desk. There was just the usual mess and Kevin, which was getting bigger by the day. It was even becoming worrisome, but that was a problem for another day. He pushed the plant that took up most of the table to make some space and finally found Dr. Adler's file.

“What were you looking for, Henry?” he murmured as he leafed through the yellowed pages.

Of course, the young Auror could not answer him. Because he wasn't there. He wasn't sitting at his desk, busy with some stupid task, like sorting his every flavour beans by colour before giving them to Kevin. Gabriel sighed and ran a hand over his face. His mind was wandering. He turned his attention to the file.

He noticed a page with a folded corner and pulled it out to read it. On it was a summary of administrative information about the coroner. He had been working in St Mungo since 1985, had lived in London since birth and had grown up in Hilltop Garden... near Foxton. He dropped the sheet and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Henry was after Dr. Adler. What had he seen in the man that could make him so suspicious in his eyes? Gabriel was having trouble following. He had known the Healer for years; he was almost a friend. There was no way he could be guilty. Wasn't it?

Doubt nevertheless crept into his thoughts and the Lieutenant decided to go and visit the coroner that evening. He came face to face with the latter as he was about to leave his office.

“Lieutenant Corner?” he asked in surprise. “What brings you here at this late hour?”

“I need to talk to you,” the officer answered nervously.

They settled down in the comfortable armchairs in the room, and Dr. Adler served two cups of tea. Sitting face to face, Gabriel watched him silently. He noticed a haematoma on the temple of the Healer.

“Did you by any chance see Henry last night?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

“Auror Cooper?” the coroner said. He tilted his head, as if he was thinking. “No, I haven't seen him. Why are you asking?”

“I haven't been able to reach him since last night, but I was told he came here.”

“You can't get in touch with him?” his interlocutor seemed to worry. “Has he disappeared?”

“You really haven't seen him?” the Lieutenant insisted.

“I went home before nine o'clock. Maybe I missed him, if he came here after I left.”

The coroner raised his cup and swallowed a sip of tea while Gabriel looked at him without saying anything.

“What happened to your face?” he finally asked, pointing to his own temple.

“Oh, that? A silly accident,” the Doctor replied, laughing. “I was putting away my books and some fell on me. Why? Do I look like I was in a fight?”

Gabriel shook his head, looked at his watch and stood up. “I won't bother you any longer. Thank you for your cooperation.”

“No problem at all. But tell me, did something happen to Henry Cooper?”

“We're still trying to find out,” Gabriel replied, turning to the doctor.

He bid him goodbye one last time and left the room.

Gabriel decided not to go straight home and stopped in front of Henry's building. A particularly icy gust of wind forced him to tighten his cloak around his shoulders, and he looked up towards the third floor. In the darkness of the night, the illuminated window of the young Auror's flat cut out perfectly. The Lieutenant's heart missed a beat and, without thinking, he rushed inside.

He could not find Henry, of course. His partner would not have come back so discreetly after having disappeared for more than twenty-four hours. No, it was James, who was sitting on the bed, clutching the young man's hideous multicoloured K-Way in his hands. Gabriel slowly approached him and sat down beside him.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, lowering his eyes.

“What for?” James asked, turning his head towards him.

“For everything.”

The professor remained silent for a few moments. “Thank you, Gabriel,” he finally said.

“What for?”

“For everything.”

The Lieutenant met his eyes and smiled.

“If you want to know the truth,” James began, focusing his attention on the jacket. “It's a relief to have met my father. Even if it's a little late… Even if I won't see him ever again.”

He let out a trembling sigh before resuming. “I've always wondered what he was like in real life, apart from the stories others told me. I'm glad I got to know him this way. You know, when I was little, I think I was like him, I wasn't an easy child. My mother often told me that I had the same impulsive temperament. Growing up in the shadow of a hero is not easy. That's partly why I chose to be known by the name Wellick.”

He sniffed discreetly. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Hen... Harry told me the same thing at the hospital,” Gabriel confessed. “He was glad he could meet you. He was proud that you were his son.”

He smiled at James before lowering his eyes to the ground again and nervously starting to fiddle with his fingers. “It's silly, but I miss him already,” he continued. “I miss his silly jokes and his bad character. I miss his stupid laugh. I'm sorry, I know it's fucked up.”

“Don't apologise. You care about him,” James said before pausing briefly and shaking his head. “Alright, I admit it's strange. But at least he had a friend here.”

So they sat side by side in silence for a while and then decided it was time to go home. The Auror left last. He turned off the light and closed the door of the now empty little flat with a last look back, promising himself that he would do everything he could to find Henry.

  
  


The _ding!_ of the lift sounded and the doors opened as a disembodied voice announced “Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement”. Gabriel slipped between the workers clumped in the cabin to get out and headed towards the entrance of the Auror Department. As he pushed open the door, he met Jack, who was in the middle of a discussion with Dr. Adler. The Lieutenant stopped dead in his tracks and stared at them in disbelief.

“Gabriel!” Jack greeted. “Why are you so surprised? Dr. Adler came because he was worried about Henry.”

“Ah, I see,” the officer replied, pulling himself together.

“Please don't hesitate to contact me,” the coroner told the old man, shaking his hand. “See you later, Lieutenant Corner,” he added as he walked past him on his way out.

Gabriel watched him leave without saying anything, then turned to his superior who had set out to return to his desk. He caught up with him in a few quick strides.

“Chief. What did he want?” he asked hastily.

“What, are you deaf now?”

“Did you talk about Henry or the tunnel incident?”

“Why would I do that?” Jack replied before sitting down.

Gabriel turned his gaze back to the exit. The doubt that had crept into his mind the day before was now firmly settled. He had a bad feeling about the Healer. He sat down as well at his table and grabbed the man’s file. On the board, the preliminary profile of the suspect appeared: _between forty and fifty years of age, lived in the South-east London area, close to the investigation_. It did match Dr. Adler.

“These elements wouldn’t have been enough to make Henry certain,” he murmured.

He got up and left the Department. Lost in his thoughts, he did not hear Rose calling out to him with great arm movements to get his attention.

“Chief,” she said, turning to her superior. “Are you sure the Rookie’s all right? The Lieutenant, he doesn't look like he's doing well. Why don't you tell us anything?”

Gabriel had thought about what the doctor said about how the victims had been killed differently. It was an idea that was running around in his head and refused to disappear, and he had to get to the bottom of it. He visited the forensic department, but this time he went to meet the forensic expert who had performed the autopsy on Julia Chaplin. He found her in one of the countless white corridors of the hospital.

“Why do you want to see me?” she asked coldly.

“I need some information. The ligature marks on Julia Chaplin's neck… I've heard that she was strangled only once with her stocking.”

“Excuse me? Who told you that?” she laughed. “You must be mistaken. It doesn't matter if she was strangled once or several times, in the end she died because of the intensity of the pressure on her trachea. It's not something you can judge just by looking at the ligature marks.”

“What… What does that mean?” Gabriel asked hesitantly.

“It's impossible to know. The only person who would know such details is the murderer himself.”

A technician suddenly called her. She apologized and saluted the Lieutenant before going to join her colleague. Gabriel remained frozen on the spot, shocked and distraught by this revelation. He didn't know how to react. A drop of sweat slid down his back, his heart started to race, his breathing became shallow. Dr. Adler's smiling face appeared before his eyes, his laughter turning from joyful to mocking. With one hand, the Auror leaned against the wall. _It was him_. It had been him all along. He hadn't seen anything. None of them had seen anything. Except Henry. Henry, who had disappeared. The young officer turned around and ran out of the hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have now finished translating the story, so the updates will be quicker, even though there aren’t many chapters left!


	23. -23-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish you all a Happy New Year! May it be better than 2020!

Gabriel disapparated to the first destination that came to his mind and appeared on the port of Tilbury, amidst the colourful containers. Panting, he rushed to the quay. Every word the Healer spoke went round and round in his head, as if his own thoughts were mocking him, his naivety, his stupidity. He had played them so easily.

The young officer raised his eyes to the sky, but that didn't stop the first tears from falling. He had considered him a friend, after all those years working together. A sob left his lips, and he put his hand against his mouth. A comforting cup of tea, a word of encouragement, a kind smile, a game of chess between two investigations. He was the man who had killed his mother. His sobs were now uncontrollable.

Suddenly his head began to spin. He leaned forward and dropped to his knees on the asphalt. His crying turned into a scream. He clenched his fist, raised his arm and hit the ground with all his might, once, twice, three times, again and again. He stayed like this for a long time, kneeling in front of the distant lights of the city reflected in the calm water of the Thames.

He didn't know how much time had passed, and when he finally became aware of his surroundings, he realised that he had apparated in front of James' house. He lived in his mother's old house, an ancient farmhouse by the sea, perched on top of a steep cliff.

Despite the late hour, the young professor immediately opened the door for him. He stared at him curiously for a few moments and then let out an expression of surprise.

“Gabriel! Your hand is bleeding!”

He led him into the living room and began to cast first-aid spells. The torn skin repaired itself, the ligaments returned to their place and the bones were pulled back together. After explaining vaguely what had happened, Gabriel fell silent and started staring at the white wall in front of him.

“Doesn't it hurt?” James asked, putting his hand over the Auror's.

“He had been watching me from the beginning,” the Auror replied without looking at him, with tears in his eyes. “He knew who I was. He must have thought I was an absolute fool because I had never understood who he was.”

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffed.

“Don't feel guilty,” James said softly. “You couldn't have known. He managed to evade justice for thirty years.”

The officer sighed long and hard. “All this time I've been running around looking for the suspect like a lunatic. A fucking lunatic.”

“I'm sorry, Gabriel. I should have been able to recognise him sooner. I want to help you in any way I can. I'm really sorry.”

The Lieutenant closed his eyes, then opened them again and finally turned his head towards his friend. “My mind went completely blank. I came here because I didn't know what else to do. I'm the one who should be sorry.”

They were silent for a few minutes, and James took the opportunity to make two cups of tea appear in front of them.

“Do you think Henry had found out that Dr. Adler was the culprit?” Gabriel asked after taking a sip of the warm and comforting drink.

“If he knew, he's probably trying to catch him in the past.”

He imagined for a moment Henry running furiously after the Doctor in the corridors of St Mungo and a slight smile appeared on his lips.

  
  


The first thing Harry was aware of was the sound of the lapping of the water next to him, accompanied by the slightly more distant sound of the surf. He moved his right hand and it sank into the fine sand on which he was lying. Slowly, his eyes opened and the brightness of the place forced him to blink several times. His surroundings seemed to be bathed in a vaporous whiteness that concealed the horizon, barely revealing the dark blue of the sea in front of him.

The young Auror stood up, disoriented and confused. He tried to remember what he was doing before he woke up on this deserted beach. He knew it was important. An investigation. Murders. What murders? He frowned and shook his head, trying to get his capricious memory to work.

“Need help?” a voice asked beside him as an outstretched hand appeared in his line of vision.

He raised his head and his eyes widened. His memories were beginning to come back to him. He knew this person. Henry Cooper was standing in front of him with a slight smile on his youthful face. Without a word, Harry accepted the young man's help and stood up.

“Hen... Henry Cooper?” he asked hesitantly. “How can this be possible? Where are we?”

The young man gave a nod of agreement and then replied, looking towards the sea. “I'm not sure. I think it looks like Brighton.”

He pointed to the left and Harry followed his movement. A long wooden pier was protruding into the water, barely visible in the white fog around them. A vague sense of familiarity seized the Auror, like a distant memory, though he didn't recognise the place.

“I think I've been in a similar place before,” he whispered. “But for me it was King's Cross.”

“The railway station?”

He had told Hermione about it a few years after the end of the war. The young woman had then done what she was good at when faced with a mystery: research. She had concluded that he had found himself in his own mind, in a place hidden deep in his unconscious, a place that was different for everyone, with a special meaning.

Harry had only set foot in Brighton once before, and it hadn’t really left any remarkable impression on him. He turned to the young man with apprehension, dreading the answer he would offer to his question.

“Brighton… Is this place important to you?”

“I was born and raised here,” Cooper nodded, his eyes still set on the ocean.

They were in his subconscious. Not Harry's. No, Henry's. “ _You're dead._ ” Adler's words echoed in his head. It was impossible. “ _You’re dead. I made sure I killed you._ ” Then what? He'd taken possession of Cooper's body and the latter had been trapped in his own mind all this time? The young Auror suddenly felt horrified at the prospect. If this was really the case, then Adler had been telling the truth.

“How long have you been there?” he asked. “Do you remember what you were doing before you came here?”

“I woke up not long ago,” the young man replied. “At first I couldn't remember anything, like when you emerge from a dream and the more you try to think about it, the more it fades away. I remember running, it was dark, I was scared, then nothing. Then I find myself in a dirty alleyway full of Aurors, then in the Department with a woman looking at me worriedly.”

Harry realised that these moments corresponded with his "absences". Henry had regained control of his body, albeit fleetingly.

“After that, I found myself here,” the young man continued. “And I don't even know how that's possible, but it's as if I knew what was going on. The investigation, the murders, Adler, and you, Harry,” he added, meeting the Auror's gaze.

“So you've been watching me all this time, while I walked around in your body, and you couldn't do anything about it? Aren't you angry with me?”

“You didn't know what was going on. Neither did I, at first. I admit that I went through a lot of emotions. Anger, yes. Sadness, seeing you living in my place. Joy, to see you sharing simple moments with your teammates, your friends. I've never experienced that. I don't have a family, and I'm not good at socialising. I'm a rather introverted person and I really don't handle conflict situations very well.”

Harry avoided his gaze and sniffed without saying anything. His reaction made Henry smile.

“Yes, I agree. We really are very different.”

Several minutes of silence followed his words, during which the two young men stood still and watched the sea gently rippling. Harry began to think. Would he have to give his body back to Cooper now? What was going to happen to him? “ _You're dead_ ”. No time travel. No going back to 1986. No future in 2017. He had really lost his life in that tunnel. A deep feeling of anger came over him. He had only one desire, to stop Adler.

“What's going to happen now?” he asked aloud. “I really wanted to catch Adler myself.”

Henry didn't answer immediately. He stuck his bare feet in the sand, obviously unsure as to what answer to give. “If you wake up, do you really think you can stop him for good?”

“What do you mean? Don't you want your life back?”

“There's a reason you're here, in 2017, I mean. In my place, in the Auror Department, with Gabriel Corner. You were always the one who had to stop him. I'm not as capable as you, Harry. I would only fail if I were to go back in my place now.”

The Auror stared at him in amazement. He hadn't expected this. “I know how hard it must be for you to tell me this,” he whispered. “It won't be long, I promise. I'm going to stop that bastard once and for all. After that, I'll give you your life back.”

“And what will happen to you? You're gonna… Disappear?”

It wasn't something he wanted to think about right now. A trembling sigh escaped his lips. “I... I think so, yes.”

“Is it really worth it? I'm alone, I have no one. You have your friends, your family, your team…”

“I got a reprieve, but I have no right to take your life,” Harry replied, shaking his head. “These people, they will also be there for you. I'm sure you're a great Auror. Maybe you don't realise it now, but I'm sure you are. After all, I wouldn't unconsciously have chosen this body if I didn't!”

“I'm not sure that's why you're here,” Henry replied, smiling in spite of everything.

The Auror turned its head towards the sea again. The water licked his feet, neither cold nor hot, and he took a few steps in it. Then he turned his attention to the young man.

“Alright. How do we do it, then? Do you think you have to give me the green spark so that I can wake up?”

Cooper looked at him and shrugged his shoulders. “Go ahead?” he said, uncertain.

Nothing happened.

“I'm just wondering one thing. Is this real or is it just happening in my head?” the young man asked thoughtfully.

“Just because it happens in your head doesn't mean it's not real,” Harry answered with a wink.

  
  


“He’s waking up!” a voice shouted above him.

Harry tried to sit up, but arms held him down. All around him a cacophony of beeps and alarms sounded, accompanied by shouts he couldn't understand the meaning of. Where was he? What was going on? He wanted to ask these questions, but something in his throat prevented him from speaking. He felt like he was suffocating.

“Sir, you have to stay calm!”

“Young man, stop struggling!”

Panic-stricken, the Auror didn't listen and tried to free himself by kicking his attackers. Moving his head triggered a feeling of vertigo and the beeps went wild.

“He's going to hurt himself!”

“Inject etomidate! Now!”

More arms grabbed him. He couldn't make a move. He struggled as best he could while trying to scream. Suddenly a feeling of heaviness spread through his body and his movements stopped. “ _Bloody Muggles_ ” was his last coherent thought before he sank into a sweet unconsciousness.

The second time he came to, his wrists were tied to the bed on which he was lying. This time there was not the slightest noise in the room, no shouting, no high-pitched machines, no TV. But here, too, the ceiling was decrepit, he noticed.

“You're awake, at last, love!” a jovial voice said beside him.

He turned his head and looked up at the nurse, who watched him with a smile. She was middle-aged, plump with a kindly face, dressed in navy blue scrubs. So it was a Muggle hospital. Again.

“What…” he began in a hoarse voice before clearing his throat. “What happened? Where am I?”

“Don't you remember?” she asked, serving a glass of water on the bedside table. “You're in Torbay Hospital, in Torquay. You caused quite a ruckus in the ward. No sooner had you woken up than we had to put you to sleep again. You had almost managed to pull out your intubation tube.”

She stopped to take his blood pressure.

“Can you untie me?” he asked, pulling on his restrained wrists.

“You promise you won't cause me any trouble?”

“I promise.”

Once Harry was released, he straightened himself up in bed and grabbed the glass of water and swallowed it in one go. The nurse left him alone, telling him not to move until she went to fetch the doctor. Through the window he watched the low sun as its last rays shimmered on the yellowed walls of his room. How long had he been there? How long had it been since his run in with Adler?

“You were asleep for almost twenty-four hours,” the doctor who was examining him informed him when the young man asked. “Passers-by found you unconscious on the ledge near the town centre. We discovered a mixture of Propofol and another unknown molecule in your blood. A few minutes more and you would not have survived. The police will certainly want to ask you some questions as soon as possible.”

Harry certainly wasn't going to stay and wait for them. The bastard had tried to kill him again. He had to get back to the Ministry as soon as possible, warn his team-mates. He had already lost a whole day.

“So I've only been here one day, is that it?”

“Not exactly. Your first awakening was pretty hectic. You were in danger of injuring yourself and the staff, so we had to sedate you a second time. You've been here for almost two days.”

Merlin, two days?! What if Adler had run away? He had to leave here immediately. The doctor finished his examination, informing him that everything seemed normal. Once he had left, Harry untied all the wires that connected him to the monitor, carefully removed his venous catheter and infusion and rushed to the bedroom cupboard where he found his clothes. He began to frantically search them. From the pocket of his jacket, he finally took out the coroner's fountain pen, relieved to find it there.

The young Auror sat down on the bed and looked at the object between his fingers. “This is what Spencer saw. “ _Noël_ ”. He did kill himself because of Adler,” he murmured.

He unscrewed the cap and looked at the golden nib carefully. “It probably has the victims' DNA on it.”

In his mind, Gabriel's distant voice ordered him to protect the prints on the pen. He took his wand out of the inside pocket of his jacket and, after checking that he was alone, conjured a transparent bag in which he slipped the object. He then held it out in front of him.

“The ultimate proof,” he said with satisfaction.

  
  


By the time he got out of the hospital and apparated in London, it was already dark. He ran down the corridors to the Department, whose door he suddenly opened. He instantly saw Jack sitting at his desk with his head in his hands, mumbling “why is he so hard to catch? It's as if he's a ghost…”

“Jack!” Harry yelled, rushing towards him.

“Woah!” the latter shouted, standing up and then retreating sharply, suddenly livid.

“What?”

“Oh Merlin!” A hand on his chest, the old Auror stared at him in amazement.

“What's the matter with you?”

“I thought you'd gone back in time!”

“Back in time? Pfft! That's insane! I was in Torquay!”

“What? Torquay?! But we've been looking everywhere for you! What the hell happened?!”

“That bastard called me to meet him at the tunnel, so I went there,” Harry replied before raising his hand to interrupt his superior who was about to speak. “And before you tell me, I know it wasn't my best idea. We got into a fight. I tried to apparate at the Ministry, but I ended up on the coast and then I blacked out. I was in a Muggle hospital.”

“ _That bastard_?! Are you saying you met him again? Do you know who he is?”

“Yes, I know who he is. I also found Henry Cooper.”

“What do you mean you found Henry Cooper?”

The young man ran a hand over his face.

“It's a long story. For now, let's focus on the killer. Call Gabriel. He needs to be here, too.”

As they waited for the Lieutenant, Harry felt Jack approach him hesitantly. He watched him feed Kevin for a few moments and then spoke.

“By the way, Harry… About James…”

“What?” the young Auror exclaimed, suddenly turning round. “What's the matter? Has something happened to him?”

“Ah, no, no! It's just that-”

He was interrupted by the door which opened loudly, and Gabriel stormed into the Department.

“Henry!” he cried as he rushed towards him. “What happened?!”

The officer seemed to want to touch him, but stopped just before. He looked exhausted and his worried gaze looked at him intensely.

“I've been looking everywhere for you!” he continued. “I was worried to death!”

Harry stood up and approached him, unsure of what to do. Should he comfort him?

“Where have you been?” the Lieutenant breathed, staring at him as if he was afraid he would disappear again before his eyes.

“I can explain everything. I-”

His gaze was caught by a movement behind his partner and he stopped. Next to one of the glass panels stood James. He looked uncomfortable and stared at Harry with big surprised eyes.

“James!” the latter exclaimed.

The professor said nothing, continuing to observe him with an indecipherable expression.

“James? Are you all right?”

“He knows…” Gabriel said softly.

Harry turned to his partner and crossed his eyes. “He knows what? Don't tell me that…”

 _He knew_. The young Auror opened his mouth and then closed it, several times, unable to pronounce anything. He had no idea what he should say, what he should do. He turned to his son.

“James…” he murmured as he walked slowly towards him.

“I thought I would never see you again… I always wondered…” His voice trembled and he sniffed. Harry felt his heart clench in his chest.

“I'm sorry, James. I wish it could have been different. I don't know what to say to you. I'm really sorry, James.”

As he spoke, he put his hand on the Professor's arm. He let it go up to his shoulder and squeezed it gently. They stood still for a few moments and then James stepped forward and, without warning, hugged Harry. Harry closed his eyes and hugged him in turn. For a moment he forgot everything that had happened, it was just him and James. His son.

“No way!” Harry shouted. “It's too dangerous!”

Jack entered the meeting room, where he had left the young Auror and his son alone, thinking they would have a lot to talk about.

“Merlin,” he grumbled. “I thought you'd be talking or crying, and here you are, already arguing. I should have seen this coming.”

“He won't listen to me!” his subordinate replied, pointing at James. “He says he wants to come and arrest the suspect with us! He's really stubborn! Where did he get that from?”

“From whom do you think! From you! You never knew how to listen to your superiors!”

“What do you mean?”

“I think James should take part in the further investigation,” Gabriel intervened behind the old Auror.

“Damn it! You say that because you don't know who the culprit is!”

“We know,” the Lieutenant answered.

“So do I,” James added.

Harry didn't expect this. Gabriel continued to investigate while searching for him and eventually discovered the truth. No wonder he looked so exhausted. It must have been a shock to learn that Dr. Adler, his friend, was the murderer. Harry felt slightly guilty that he had not been by his side at the time.

“I hurried home thinking you didn't know. Are you all right?” he asked his partner.

He didn't answer and looked down with a miserable look on his face. The young Auror sighed and then ran his hand through his hair.

“We have to look on the bright side. The situation is not hopeless,” he declared, rummaging through his jacket pocket to pull out the bag containing the fountain pen. “Ta-da! The ultimate proof!”

“A fountain pen?” Gabriel asked, turning his gaze towards it.

“The same brand as those on the list of objects that used the ink found on the victims. The bastard drew the dots on his victims with this fountain pen. It has the inscription " _Noël_ " on it.”

He handed the bag to his partner who examined it carefully and then passed it to Jack.

“He is probably looking for it,” James intervened. “The DNA of the victims is on it, and even if it is not the murder weapon, it will be important to him. He must be nervous and anxious, not knowing if he has lost it or if someone has taken it.”

“He must necessarily suspect Harry,” the Lieutenant said.

“I should go and tell him I'm back!”

“Don't, Henry,” the professor argued. “I mean…”

“Dad,” Jack whispered beside him with an encouraging look.

“Ah, stop it,” the young Auror grumbled, trying to hit him.

“So, not only does Henry know about Adler,” Gabriel began. “But Adler knows your secret too?”

“We can't take the risk of him revealing everything,” James said.

“How do we do it then?”

“We catch him!” Harry exclaimed impatiently.

He stood up and his colleagues looked at him without moving.

“He's going to kill again! First we lock him up, then we make him talk. With the pen as proof, he's done for! And if he tells everyone I'm Harry Potter, people will just think he's mental!”

Harry managed to persuade Gabriel and they immediately went to St Mungo. They found the forensic department deserted although the light was still on. The staff couldn't have been far away. Bursts of laughter rang out a little further down the corridor and the two Aurors exchanged glances. They approached the room where Dr. Adler and his technicians were gathered in the middle of a meal.

Gabriel's face turned dark, fury painting his features at the sight of the Healer and he went to rush towards him. Harry held him in time with one hand on his arm. He shook his head and then slowly walked into the break room. The carers turned to him with curiosity. Without warning, he pushed the table forward forcefully, forcing the occupants to back away quickly while shouting “what are you doing? What's going on?!”

Adler sat there, his eyes wide open, staring at the young Auror. The latter stood in front of him, his hands resting on the armrests of his chair.

“You're still laughing, you bastard,” Harry whispered. “We meet again.”

“How can you be here?” the coroner asked in shock.

“You must have been relieved when I disappeared. I bet you thought it was finally over. That I was gone for good this time. You've got it all wrong. Now it's only just beginning.”

Harry grabbed him by the collar of his robes and forced him on his legs while Gabriel approached him with handcuffs.

“Lieutenant Corner?” Adler asked, turning to him. “What is the meaning of all this?”

The officer did not answer.

“It's probably a misunderstanding,” the Healer told his colleagues. “It's all right, don't worry.”

“A misunderstanding?” the young Auror grumbled. “Tsk. What do you think your colleagues will think when they find out who you really are?”

“Nicholas Adler,” Gabriel said, handcuffing him, his face totally devoid of expression. “You are under arrest for the murders of Julia Chaplin and Victoria Decker. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to a lawyer. Anything you say can and will be held against you and used in a court of law.”

Adler remained silent for a few seconds and then started to giggle.

“Are you laughing again?!” Harry angrily cried out. “Come here, you bastard.”

Then he pulled the coroner unceremoniously towards the exit.


	24. -24-

Behind the two-way mirror, Harry, Gabriel and Jack watched their suspect, alone in the small interrogation room. The latter had his eyes closed and his hands folded in front of him in an imitation of a prayer. His facial features were perfectly relaxed, as if he seemed to have no worries.

“He was hiding among us with that innocent look on his face,” Jack whispered with disbelief and anger.

“We have to break down his mental barriers, whatever it takes,” Harry stated.

“Let's go,” Gabriel said as he walked to the door.

As he was about to open it, Harry held him down with one hand on his arm and looked at him with a preoccupied look on his face.

“Hey. Are you going to be alright?” he asked. “I can go by myself if you want.”

His partner shook his head and met his eyes. “No. I want to hear him confess myself.”

Dr. Adler didn't react when the two Aurors sat down in front of him. Harry looked at him for a few moments and then moved back into his chair.

“I can't believe you stayed there. Even after our last encounter, you didn't leave. All those years you were so close to us, hidden away like a rat.”

He spoke those last words with a tone of disgust. At his side, Gabriel leaned down and slid the portraits of the two victims onto the table. Adler lowered his eyes and looked at them indifferently.

“Nicholas Adler,” the officer began in a neutral voice. “You have been arrested for the murders of Julia Chaplin and Victoria Decker. Do you admit to the facts?”

“Do you really think I could be the culprit, Lieutenant Corner?”

“You're here as a suspect, and I'm here to question you. Please, answer.”

The coroner started laughing softly. “I don't admit to the facts,” he finally replied.

“Noël?” Harry called him.

He turned his head towards the young Auror with a curious look, but said nothing.

“Is that your middle name?” Harry continued. “Is it because you were born on December 25th?”

“You dragged me here to ask me about my name?”

“How could I not be curious? You had it engraved on your fountain pen!”

The reaction of the Healer was almost imperceptible, but Harry could see the corner of his lips quivering.

“You usually carry this pen with you at all times. But I can see that this is not the case today. Have you lost it? Where did you misplace it?”

The young man leaned a little further forward, his gaze never leaving the suspect. “Or maybe someone took it?”

Adler finally lowered his eyes, and Harry revealed the pictures of the victims' feet, on which the tattoos were clearly visible.

“After killing these young women, you used this fountain pen to tattoo the dots on their heels. Didn't you?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Of course you don't. So you also deny meeting me in the tunnel?”

The coroner looked up at Harry again.

“You killed those women,” he said, his irritation beginning to tinge his voice. “And there are even more victims. Thirty years ago, you killed Mindy Pinfield, Emily Browning, Lena Culbert, Elisabeth Bickford, Briony Talbot…”

“I don't know anything about it,” Adler insisted.

“You're still denying it, aren't you? That's all right. We'll just have to wait for the results of the pen analysis. We'll find the victims' DNA on it. And that'll be the end of you, bastard.”

“Do as you please,” the doctor replied. He then closed his eyes with a satisfied look.

Harry could guess what he was thinking. He wanted to make sure the Aurors actually had the fountain pen in their hands. It was the most important piece of evidence against him. The sooner the results of the analysis of the object were passed on to them, the sooner they could make him talk.

  
  


Liam let out a long, tired sigh while raising his head to the sky. The day had barely begun and the latter and Rose had just joined them in the room next to the interrogation room where Adler still was.

“What in Merlin’s name happened last night?” he asked his colleagues.

“Have you arrested Dr. Adler?” the young woman asked in turn. “And where have you been, Henry? We've been looking everywhere for you! I don't understand anything anymore!”

Jack turned to his young subordinate. “We have to tell them the truth, Harry. We can't put him behind bars on our own,” he said, nodding to the coroner.

Rose and Liam stared at them with a lost look on their faces.

“You know we can trust them,” the old Auror added.

“ _Harry_?” the blonde-haired Auror repeated.

“This time, you did it on purpose, Chief,” Rose commented, frowning.

It was so quiet that you could have heard a pin drop in the small meeting room.

“Rose, did I hear right?” Liam finally asked, looking at Harry sitting across from him. “What did he go through?”

“Time,” she replied in a blank voice. “He went through time.”

“I need some sugar.”

The young woman took a small white cube out of her pocket and handed it to him. He crunched it noisily. 

“Are you writing a science fiction book?” the Auror continued. “It doesn't make any sense.”

“Here,” Jack said, sliding a translucent tablet in front of them.

“What's that?”

Harry held his wand to his temple and pulled out a bluish filament and placed it in a small notch on the side of the object. His two colleagues leaned a little further forward to watch the memories scrolling across the surface of the tablet. Their eyes widened. In one and the same movement, their gaze went from the memories and back to Harry several times in a row.

“What the...,” Liam whispered, gawking.

Rose shook her head and made a sound of denial. “There's no way. It's not true.”

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner,” Harry apologized.

“It's coming out of his head, but…”

“He really is Harry Potter, and he comes from the past,” Gabriel intervened. “He was the Auror who was in charge of the investigation of my mother's murder.”

“Lieutenant, are you saying you believe him?” the young woman asked, before shaking her head. “No, wait, scratch that. That you knew about it all this time?”

The officer nodded.

“Is he really from the past?” Liam asked, his voice still uncertain.

“Yes,” the Lieutenant insisted.

The blonde-haired Auror turned his attention to Harry, who nodded his head slowly with a steady gaze.

“So you were born in... 1960,” his colleague began. “That means you're eighteen years older than me. Rookie, no, Henry, no…”

“Harry Potter? Mr. Potter?” Rose suggested as she looked at her partner.

“There's something else...,” Jack interrupted them.

They slowly turned to their superior.

“Professor We-”

Rose suddenly burst out laughing and tapped on the table with the flat of her hand. Harry couldn't help noticing that she had a big mouth, with lots of teeth.

“What?” Liam asked, looking at her uncomprehendingly. “What's the matter? I don't understand.”

“James Wellick, he was born Potter,” Jack explained. “He's the son of Ginny Weasley and Harry.”

The Auror froze for a moment while he absorbed the Chief's words, then he started to laugh in chorus with his partner, now folded in half.

“Are you done?” Harry said with annoyance. “Are you going to get over it?”

“Wait!” Liam exclaimed, suddenly serious. “Why does he look like that?”

“He swapped bodies with Henry Cooper when he arrived in 2016,” Gabriel replied. “At the moment, we don't know whe-”

“I know where Cooper is,” the young Auror interrupted. “He’s all right. I'll tell you more when the investigation is over. We've got a killer to make talk.”

“He's right,” Jack added. “Don't forget that Nicholas Adler should not be underestimated. Not only did he kill several people thirty years ago, but he also murdered Chaplin and Decker. He also tried to kill Harry twice. He drove our witness, Spencer, to suicide. We can't let him get away with it.”

“Why did you kill them?” Gabriel asked, his brown eyes staring intently at the suspect.

“You're asking the wrong questions, Lieutenant Corner,” Adler answered with a smile. “If you want the right answer, you have to ask the right question. I thought you were supposed to have the pen analyzed. You still don't have the results?”

“They're coming, don't worry,” Harry replied. “You're not going to be able to keep up the innocent act for long.”

“Should I rather ask you how you killed them, not why?” the officer continued. “But your modus operandi is the same as Spencer's, so I’m not very curious.”

This caught the attention of the coroner who turned his gaze on him, his smile becoming forced.

“What? I know what you want to say. That unlike Spencer, you killed them all in one fell move, didn't you?”

“Lieutenant Corner, I've helped you many times, and now you're accusing me of murder?”

“Just shut up,” Harry grunted. “There's no point in pretending. We already know who you are.”

The Healer leaned over to him, still smiling. “What about you, Auror _Cooper_? Who are you? Lieutenant, did he tell you the truth?” he asked, turning to the officer.

“Oho,” the young Auror breathed. “Resorting to threats, now?”

“Oh no,” Adler defended himself, shaking his hands. “What are you talking about? I'm just stating the facts. It's a bit of a bother, I have an autopsy scheduled for this morning. I don't think I can make it on time.”

He uttered these last words with a sigh, as if it were only a minor annoyance, and then closed his eyes, refusing to answer the Aurors' next questions.

“He's so creepy,” Rose shivered. “Have you seen how he’s just sitting there, smiling without blinking?”

“How can a human being behave like that?” Liam added.

“He's not human,” Jack replied sitting at his desk. “He's a monster.”

“A monster who won't talk,” Harry mumbled. “Where are they at with the pen analysis? Have you heard from the technicians?”

“I've got it!” Gabriel cried as he approached their desks in a brisk pace, a file in his hands. “I've got the results!”

His colleagues rushed to his side and together they discovered the conclusions of the analyses.

“It's a match!”

The DNA of Julia Chaplin and Victoria Decker had been found on the pencil nib, as had Dr. Adler's fingerprints.

“It's been too long for the victims of thirty years ago, but we finally have concrete evidence against him,” Jack said with satisfaction. “We'll be able to get a warrant and search his home.”

“It won't be long before he finally speaks,” Harry whispered, meeting Gabriel's gaze.

The same strict order as in the doctor’s office reigned in his home. Everything seemed perfectly arranged in its place, nothing was out of place. It was obvious to Harry that he was in the home of someone who was used to leaving no trace behind. Even the drawers he opened were completely empty and clean. It was as if this house was just an illusion of normality, in which no-one really lived.

The young Auror shivered. All around him, his colleagues and technicians were busy looking for clues, but so far nothing had been found. His gaze was drawn to a sheet of paper on the desk that lifted up intermittently. Harry realised that his shudder was not only due to his feeling of discomfort. There was a draft.

Gabriel walked by and he motioned to him to follow him as he explained what he was looking for. They walked along the walls of the office, looking for the slightest irregularity. Harry felt a cold breeze again and stopped dead in his tracks. He ran his hand over the dark tapestry and finally found something. He took a step back.

“ _Alohomora_ ,” he said.

The section of wall opened, revealing a hidden room with one of the windows open. A small desk was in the middle and the two Aurors approached. In one of the drawers, they found several notebooks with leather covers and Harry opened one at random.

“ _November 12, 1977_ ,” he read aloud. “ _Today Mum has come to visit me. As usual, she brought back many presents, but Grandma forbade me to touch them…_ They are diaries. His diaries.”

Next to him, Gabriel had opened a large folder and stared at its contents with a frown.

“What's that?” Harry asked, putting the notebook back on the table.

“Obituaries, obviously cut out of a newspaper. But I don't understand, these are old people…”

“You don't think that…”

“I know that he volunteered during vaccination campaigns against the Dragonpox among isolated or disadvantaged populations.”

“Merlin,” Harry whispered in horror. “These are his victims. He never stopped killing.”

  
  


The news spread to the Ministry like wildfire. The Aurors of the Violent Crimes Section, seemingly incompetent, had arrested a new serial killer. And not just anyone, no, a renowned Healer. Between doubt and stupefaction, the Supervisor paid a visit to the small team.

“I can't believe that the coroner who was doing the autopsies for us is really the culprit,” he said shaking his head. “He was with us the whole time. Merlin. I underestimated you. Please, accept my apologies. You did a good job! Never listen to your superiors! If your instincts tell you to investigate, go ahead, that's why you're good Aurors!”

“I learned that from my former boss, never listen to others,” Jack nodded as he glanced at Harry, who gave him a vulgar gesture in return.

“I've spoken to the Director, you have our full support,” the Supervisor continued. “Do your best to conclude the investigation properly. Good luck.”

Then he left without further ado, leaving them to get back to work. The old Auror turned to his subordinates.

“Alright, we have the suspect. Now we just have to get him to talk. Even if there is a statute of limitations, we'll get a confession from him,” he declared with confidence. “He can't be charged, but I want to hear Adler say so. This is the only thing we can do to allow the victims to rest in peace. Rose, Liam and I will inventory the evidence found in his home. Harry, Gabriel, you can continue to question him.”

“Let's do our best!” Rose exclaimed, clapping her hands.

“Yes!” Liam added enthusiastically. “This time, he can't keep denying the truth!”

In order to best prepare for their interrogation, Harry and Gabriel asked James for help.

“Unlike Spencer,” James stated, “who was having difficulty integrating into society when he was discharged from the psychiatric hospital, Adler was a competent and recognised Healer, a member of associations, sociable and perfectly integrated. A perfect example of an organised killer. This kind of personality can react in one of two ways: either he will talk easily or he will remain silent. I'm still going through his journals, to see what I can learn from them, but I have a few leads that we can use to try to get him to confess…”

Harry was getting tired of this interrogation room and, in particular, of this suspect refusing to cooperate. They were going to get his confession, today. The young Auror pushed the pictures of Chaplin and Decker back onto the table.

“Take a good look,” he told Adler. “You killed those young women. And that's not all. Pinfield, Browning, Culbert, Bickford, Talbot. How much longer are you going to stay silent?”

“Here's the evidence you asked us to produce,” Gabriel added, dropping the fountain pen analysis report in front of him. “We found the DNA of the victims on it. As well as yours. Do you admit to the facts?”

Adler remained silent, his eternal grin fixed on his lips.

“Hey!” Harry called out to him. “Answer his question. Don't look at me! Answer him!”

Still without saying a word, the suspect bowed his head.

“We had asked Spencer about his fixation on skirts,” the Lieutenant suddenly said. “We had asked him if his mother wore skirts. But that was your obsession, wasn't it? It wasn't his obsession, it was yours. Looking back, Spencer didn't really have a typical victim. But you did, because you saw your mother in them. What was she like?”

The Healer still didn't answer. Gabriel pulled a picture from his file and handed it to him.

“You look like her,” he said. “It was your mother you wanted to kill every time, wasn't it? I'm sure you didn't hate her at first. You often went to the house where you both lived more than thirty years ago. This means that you also had good memories there, despite a relatively poor childhood.”

He produced a second photograph, this time of the coroner as a child with his mother.

“She smiled at you like that all the time. Didn't she? But one day she started smiling like that to someone else. To her male clients, whom she brought home. She'd get dressed up and put on her nice dress and stockings. That's when you must have asked yourself " _what kind of work does she do?_ ".”

He paused for a brief moment to observe the suspect, who offered no reaction, and then continued.

“When she sent you to live with your grandmother, I bet it was because you embarrassed her when she brought her clients home. When she came to visit you, all the neighbours had to start talking behind her back, whispering that your mother was working " _in the red light district_ ". That must have made you furious. " _My mom is not that kind of person. Why do they talk about her like that?_ " But little by little that anger turned towards your mother.”

The coroner finally moved, an almost imperceptible movement, but one that had not escaped the Aurors.

“Then you met the veteran of the Wizarding War. " _We have to get rid of the bad people._ " Anger turned to hate. One day, suddenly, your mother stopped coming to see you. She was hospitalized because of her alcoholism. You went to visit her, but it was too late, she was already dead. That's when your rage exploded. Because she died so suddenly.”

Adler lowered his eyes, his increasingly shallow breathing seemed to resound loudly in the small room.

“" _Mum is dead. But I'm not sad. She only died because she was bad._ " That's why you only kill women in skirts. You didn't strangle them several times, but only once because your fury was at its height. They all looked like your mother. That's why you killed them.”

The body of the suspect had started to shake, but he was stubbornly silent.

“Hey,” Harry intervened, hitting the table with his hand. “Answer him, you bastard.”

The Healer took several deep breaths, swallowed, and then slowly raised his head and smiled.

“Are you still smiling?” Gabriel whispered incredulously.

“And you call yourself human?!” Harry shouted angrily.

Dr. Adler laughed and stared at them. The interrogation was interrupted by quick knocks against the glass of the two-way mirror.

“His mother's lead is not the right one,” James said. “It is a key element in the origin of his murderous madness, but it is not the main reason for it.”

“Then what is?”

“I've finished his journals. In them, he details his murders. He thinks he's on a mission. A duty to cleanse the world of people he deems " _dirty_ " or " _evil_ ". He needs to be attacked from that very angle.”

“So, do you think you're special?” Harry asked abruptly once back in the room.

“You're an accomplished Healer, a teacher respected by your apprentices,” his partner added. “You're not short of money, and you're not completely crazy. You must be convinced you have a good reason for killing people. But there is never a good reason for a man like you to start killing other people.”

“You think you're different from Donnie Spencer,” the young Auror continued. “You killed those women and left them in plain sight because you didn't want to be compared to this mediocre imitator. But you see, before I knew you were the real culprit, I thought you were a pretty great person. I was wrong. Like Spencer, you're just another scumbag. Nothing but a cowardly murderer who kills weaker than him. Why was I so stupid to think that you were any different than anyone else? Just another killer who preys on the innocent. Isn't that right?”

Adler stared at him intensely, his eyes seeming to want to pierce him through his little round glasses, then he started to cackle.

“ _Innocent_?” he repeated, tilting his head. “Innocent? Is that so?”

“What?”

“Mindy Pinfield,” the suspect explained. “This is what she said in front of the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron: " _Mom, I have to stay longer at work. I'll be late tonight, don't wait up._ " But she wasn't working that night. She went to meet a boy, while her mother was waiting for her at home. This kind of woman is despicable.”

He laughed and then resumed his monologue.

“Emily Browning. She was showing her friends love letters sent by her fiancé's best friend. She said she wanted to go out with him too. Lena Culbert. Oh, Lena Culbert was the most interesting. A boy younger than her told her that she would look nice in a skirt. She immediately started wearing them. She said she had a crush on the bookseller, the liar. Claire Tenenbaum, for her part, spoke constantly about the United States. She told that she was going to make a fortune there. But how do you think she was going to earn that money? She was only twenty years old. Briony Talbot. She had spent the night with a man.”

“You lunatic!” Harry cried out in a rage. “You killed them for these petty reasons?!”

“How can they be petty? All the women I killed were seductive. That kind of woman cannot become a good mother, Auror Cooper. It was my duty to make them disappear.”

“Elisabeth Bickford,” Gabriel interrupted in a trembling voice. “Why did you kill my mother?”

“Do you really want to know? I omitted her voluntarily, you know,” Adler replied in an amused voice.

“Shut up, if you don't want to eat the tiles!” the young Auror threatened, pointing at him.

“Tell me,” his partner insisted. “Tell me why you killed her.”

“Gabriel! Don't do that! It's useless. He's going to give you another ridiculous reason-”

“Tell me!” the Lieutenant shouted, ignoring the young man.

“She smiled at another man on the bus.”

A horrified silence followed his statement.

“W... What?” the Lieutenant asked weakly.

“Why? Do I need to explain in more detail?”

Harry could see his partner's eyes shining with tears that he was trying to contain as best he could. Suddenly, before he could react, Gabriel landed a masterful punch in the coroner's jaw. The coroner violently crashed to the ground. The officer threw himself on the man on the floor and grabbed him by the collar of his robes.

“What did you say?” he shouted, trembling with rage. “You killed her because she smiled at another man?! My father lived the rest of his life miserably. I lived miserably! You should experience the same pain! YOU SHOULD DIE!”

The Lieutenant's hands slipped on the Healer's neck and began to squeeze tightly. Harry rushed towards him and tried to separate him from the suspect.

“Gabriel!” he tried to reason with him. “Stop it! Let go of him! He's going to pay! I promise you he will!”

The young man wrapped his arms around his partner and continued to pull him back.

“Calm down!”

He finally managed to get him to let go, but kept his arms around him. The officer's body was shaking with sobs and his panting breath filled the silence that had settled in the room.

“It's all right, Gabriel,” Harry whispered, sneaking in front of him to take his tear-stained face in his hands. “Just look at me. It's all over now. It's all over at last.”

“That's why I didn't tell you,” Adler said as he got up to take his place in the chair. “It was to protect you, Lieutenant.”

“You, you shut the fuck up!” Harry yelled, shooting him a dark glare.

Gabriel freed himself from his partner's embrace, stood up and approached the coroner.

“That's bullshit,” he stated, his breathing still shallow and his voice interspersed with sobs. “You call that a reason? It never was! No matter what their job was, what time they came home in the evening or what they were wearing, none of them deserved to be killed. Especially not by a scumbag like you!”

He gave Adler one last scornful glance and then left the room in a hurry.

“You should all be thanking me,” the doctor said. “I only did what I had to do! You know what upsets me the most? That I won’t be able to kill any more. The world is still full of people who deserve to be punished. Don't you agree with me, Auror Cooper?”

“Bastard,” Harry hissed. “Punished?! You're the one who deserves to be punished, you freak. You're going to have to pay for what you've done for the rest of your life. I'm going to make sure of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing the interrogation scenes was quite some work! I used the book “Mindhunter”, written by John Douglas and Mark Olshaker, a lot when I was writing stuff about serial killers. This book is amazing and there’s so much I wanted to put in this story, but I had to make choices!  
> Anyway, only one chapter left!  
> Thank you for reading! And thank you for the kudos and comments, it always makes me happy!


	25. -25-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter!  
> Here are some of the songs I listened to while writing it (most of them I discovered through this playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6G6cXtjyR07YXANovryOfa)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WsPg_EKMyIs (You killed me on the moon, Blow)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z3yzunhryHM (Too late to say goodbye, Cage the elephant)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T7bOsxhkuEo (Trouble, Cage the elephant)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TNTkpTSLdPk (Cold, cold, cold, Cage the elephant)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_6rIks03cdM (Teardrop, Jose gonzalez)

Harry found Gabriel sitting in a quiet corner of the Ministry cafeteria. He approached slowly, pushing back a falling branch of a weeping willow; the place had taken on the appearance of a botanical garden that day. Without saying a word, the young man sat in the armchair in front of his partner.

“I thought that knowing the reason would bring me some relief, however small,” the latter whispered after a few minutes of silence.

“There was never any reason to begin with,” Harry replied softly.

“I know that. But I subconsciously hoped there was. Only then, I could finally accept it.”

The officer lowered his head and let out a trembling sigh. “When I was there, in the room, I wanted only one thing: to run away. To turn my heels and run away…”

“You stayed strong all this time,” the young Auror said, leaning down to put his hand on his forearm. “You should be proud of yourself, Gabriel.”

A new silence stretched out, punctuated by the distant conversations of the employees in the restaurant. Harry sighed. He knew it was time to tell his partner the truth about Henry Cooper, himself and what had happened in the tunnel thirty years earlier.

“Hey, Gabriel?”

“Mh.”

“I need to tell you something… I said I met Henry Cooper, remember?”

The Lieutenant looked up at him but the young Auror avoided his gaze.

“That night in the tunnel, thirty years ago, I never got out of there alive. Adler told me that he had… Killed me. He told me where to find my… Where I was.”

“So, what… Are you… D… Dead?” his partner stammered, staring at him with round eyes. 

Harry nodded slowly. Admitting it out loud was far more painful than he had imagined. Gabriel ran a hand over his face and then through his hair before meeting his eyes again.

“How could this be possible? What about Cooper? I don't understand…”

“He has always been there. Prisoner of his own mind,” Harry replied, tapping his temple. “Now that we've caught the murderer, it's time for me to go. I promised Henry I'd give him back his body when it was all over. I've done most of what I had to do.”

“You… Have you told James?”

“No. I haven't had time yet. I don't even know how I'm going to tell him or if I'm going to be able to.”

“You're not going to… Leave without telling him?”

“I should tell him. I know I should. But I feel guilty about abandoning him again.”

The Lieutenant breathed a long, emotional sigh.

“Gabriel,” the young Auror began. “Thank you for everything. I was happy to be able to meet you again.”

The officer turned his head to the side, averting his gaze, then lowered it.

“What?” Harry asked. “I know you'll be thrilled once I'm gone!”

He still preferred to approach the situation with humour rather than getting emotional. He had never been very good at dealing with emotions.

“If you're not here, how can I...?” Gabriel replied before stopping. With tears in his eyes, he exhaled and tried to pull himself together. “Right,” he continued, a tremolo in his voice. “I'm delighted!”

“Tsk. Who are you hoping to convince?” Harry laughed, touched by his reaction. “Thank you for becoming such a wonderful man.”

The Lieutenant looked at him again, shook his head and turned his seat over, leaving the young man to face his back.

“Hey! I thought you were completely insensitive! Are you really crying?”

“I'm not crying!” the officer replied, a sob in his voice. “I've got something in my eye.”

“You're not actually a psychorigid idiot, but a crybaby!”

“I told you I wasn't crying!”

“From where I'm sitting, it looks like you're crying.”

“Who's crying?” a curious voice suddenly asked, approaching.

“James!” Harry exclaimed as he stood up. “What are you doing here? What did you hear?”

“That you called Gabriel a crybaby. Did you make him cry?”

“I am not crying!”

“Why are you here?” Harry asked his son.

“Jack asked me to come and get you. There's going to be a press conference,” he replied.

“I guess it's all over, now that the killer has confessed everything,” Rose sighed, stretching her arms over her, slumped in her chair.

“Not quite,” Harry replied, looking at the translucent board that still displayed the portraits of the victims. “We couldn't save the lives of these young women or bring them back to life. But we should at least tell their families. We should tell them that the murderer was arrested and that we have never forgotten them.”

The Director of the Auror Department, accompanied by many officials, almost all the Sections and all those who had participated in the investigation, including James, stepped onto the podium in the Atrium. As he was about to begin his speech, in which he would apologise to the families of the victims, share the findings of the investigation and congratulate the Aurors, one Section, in particular, was missing.

The small team had taken the lead and decided to go to each family, one by one, to deliver the news in person. Harry and Gabriel found Mindy Pinfield's mother in her garden with a bowl of seeds for her chickens in her hands.

“Mrs. Pinfield ?” the young Auror began softly as she approached.

“Yes, it’s me. Who are you?”

“We are Aurors. We've come to tell you that… The man who killed your daughter, Mindy, has been arrested.”

The old woman froze and then broke down in tears in front of them, whispering, “Oh, Merlin, thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

Rose and Liam discovered that Emily Browning's mother had died shortly after her daughter, but her brother welcomed them with relief. He led them to her mother's grave and, as he placed a bouquet on the stele, said, “They finally caught him, Mom. It's all over now. Thank you for not forgetting my little sister.”

At St Mungo, Jack sat beside the bed where a woman, pale and frail, was asleep, plunged into a deep sleep from which no one knew if she would ever wake up again.

“Mrs Culbert?” he asked in a trembling voice. “I wish I had been a better Auror then... I know it's been thirty years, but we have finally caught Lena's murderer.”

In the dimly lit and silent room, the Auror could see a tear slowly sliding down the old woman's cheek.

The small red brick suburban house, among so many others of similar appearance, reminded Harry for a moment of the Dursleys' house. He approached the gate beside Gabriel, who stopped and took a deep breath before crossing it. The young Auror chose to wait for him there, thinking it best to let the officer go alone.

The front door opened and a grey-haired man came out of his house with a rubbish bag in his hand.

“Dad,” Gabriel whispered as he looked at him.

“Gabriel? You didn't tell me you were coming!” Michael Corner exclaimed, whose face became worried as he met his son's gaze. “What? Has something happened?”

Sitting on the outside wall, Harry could hear their conversation, but pretended to be interested in the landscape in front of him.

“A long time ago, this Auror had promised me that he would find the culprit and arrest him,” Michael said in a trembling voice. “And you did it. Thank you, Gabriel. Thank you, my son.”

“This Auror...,” the Lieutenant began, turning to his father. “He kept his promise, Dad.”

The young Auror let a smile stretch his lips as he heard the words of his partner. An idea crossed his mind, and he took out his wand. With a smooth gesture, he made a bouquet of diverse and colourful flowers appear. When Gabriel finally joined him, he handed it to him.

“What is it?” the latter asked, perplexed.

“Come on. We're going to see your mother.”

Elisabeth Bickford's ashes had been scattered in a lake in the Highlands, nestled between two mountains, where she was originally from. The late afternoon sun reflected on the smooth surface of the lake, bathing the landscape in a soft light. Gabriel walked slowly along the shore with the bouquet clutched in his hands.

“At last, it’s all over. We stopped Adler. The one who killed you. These flowers… They are from the Auror who was in charge of your case.”

He turned to Harry. The young man approached hesitantly and stopped beside his partner, looking towards the lake.

“It took us a long time,” he murmured. “I'm really sorry.”

The Lieutenant crouched down and laid the flowers on the ground. “You can rest in peace now, Mum.”

He stood up and the two Aurors watched the sun set together, setting the clear sky above them ablaze.

“All of Adler's victims have been identified, the families have been notified,” Rose summed up, erasing the board with a wave of her wand. “Is it all over now?”

From his chair, Harry grimaced. He had tried to put it off as long as possible, but it was time to tell his colleagues the truth.

“Not exactly,” he breathed without looking up.

“What do you mean by that?”

“There's still a victim. An Auror, killed in the line of duty thirty years ago.”

Jack let himself fall into his chair, suddenly pale. “Don't tell me that…”

The young Auror waited until the shockwave of his revelation subsided to explain to them what had happened. As best he could, he told them about his two encounters with Adler, his discussion with Henry Cooper, but remained vague about what would happen to him once his body was found.

The next morning, in the cold, grey weather, Harry led the Aurors to the coordinates given to him by the Healer. They appeared in front of an old abandoned farmhouse in the middle of the English countryside; the former home of Adler's grandmother. The young Auror crossed the inner courtyard and headed towards the rear garden. The wind made the tall grasses in the fallow field undulate, in the middle of which he saw the shape of the well described by the criminal.

The previously condemned well appeared to have been opened only recently, with the wooden plate covering the hole lying slightly crookedly on the stone. Harry approached slowly, while his colleagues behind him waited for him to make the first move. He stopped in front of the well and took a deep breath.

The young man pushed the wooden slab which crashed to the ground with a dull sound. While bending over, he lit up the darkness with a  _ Lumos _ . Only a white object at the bottom of the hole appeared to him. He straightened up and noticed that his vision was blurred.  _ Tears _ . A trembling sigh escaped from his lips and realised that he had been holding his breath all along.

With a wave of his hand to the technicians, he allowed them to approach. He, on the other hand, preferred to move away and turn around, so as not to see them take the skeleton out of the well.

“Perhaps there’s hope,” he whispered in a breath. “Maybe Adler lied. It's not my body in there.”

Hesitant footsteps slowly approached him. Without a word, he saw Gabriel hand him a cloak. A dark, warm woollen cloak with an old Auror insignia attached to it. The same cloak he had worn that evening. The cloak that Ginny had given him.  _ His cloak _ .  _ His body _ .  _ His skeleton _ . He clutched the cloth in his hands and let himself fall to his knees in the tall grass. He stared straight ahead and felt the tears running down his cheeks. No one around him breathed a word, only the sound of the wind shaking the barleys disturbed the silence.

Harry hiccupped and then began to cry, as he had not done for so long. He cried in pain, he cried for his lost life, he cried for the now tangible reality of what had happened to him. All the emotions he had repressed since his arrival were now escaping, uncontrollable.

Harry had always said that he didn't want his funeral to be a sad affair. He was pleased that his friends remembered this when he saw the congregation dressed in colourful robes and costumes, far from the usual depressing black. The tribute to Harry Potter had attracted many onlookers, but the ceremony took place in a small, intimate setting in a pretty little park at Godric's Hollow.

As he walked to his seat under the protective dome that had been erected for the occasion, the young man listened as James explained who was who.

“Victoire and Teddy are over there,” he said, pointing at a dark blue-haired man accompanied by a beautiful blonde woman. “And their daughter, Elia. She is sixteen years old. The whole Weasley clan is there. Oh, Neville and Hannah, over there.”

So many faces, both familiar and strange. Harry felt a slight sensation of dizziness overwhelm him. A hand rested on his back and he turned his head to see Gabriel, who had slipped in beside him. He concentrated on his touch to anchor himself in the present moment. Once everyone had taken their seats, he saw Ron step forward on the small central stage and the murmurs of conversation stopped. Dressed in light blue dresses that accentuated his slender silhouette, his friend seemed almost rejuvenated, his hair flaming in the soft sunlight.

“First of all, I would like to thank you all for your presence,” he stated in a clear but slightly tense voice. “I never thought I would have to do this, to speak at my best friend's funeral.”

He paused for a moment and swallowed before resuming. “In a way, I think we're all relieved to finally have some answers. All this time… Thirty years of wondering what happened.”

He turned to the white coffin behind him. “And I know what you're going to say, Harry. I would like you to know that I fought to get a Viking ship, but the authorities refused, on the pretext that  _ a burning ship on the Thames could endanger the safety of the users, Muggles and Wizards alike _ .”

Harry sighed dramatically. “How am I going to get to Valhalla now?” he whispered with a smile.

“You’ll always have been my best friend, my brother. I will never forget you. We will never forget you. I hope that wherever you are, you rest in peace now.”

Several speakers followed one another, bringing tears from Harry who, at the end of the ceremony, sniffed furiously as he rubbed his eyes. He was standing with Jack, beside a large pot of glittering flowers, when James approached them, accompanied by Ginny.

Harry had seen her at the beginning of the gathering on the arm of a tall blond man. He had deduced that it was the famous Wellick. In her white dress, simple but elegant, she was truly breathtaking.

“Mom,” James began. “It was the Aurors who arrested his murderer and found his…”

“I remember,” she breathed as she looked at the face of the old Auror. “Jack Sloper, isn't it? You were there that night.”

“Yes, I was. I'm so sorry it took me so long to find him. I'm sorry I wasn't there with him thirty years ago…”

She tightened her arms wrapped around her body and lowered her head. “If Harry had decided to go looking for trouble, there was nothing you could do,” she said looking up. “His stubbornness has always been a force of nature.”

And that had caused him to deeply hurt the woman he loved, the young man thought bitterly.

“It’s true. I just wanted to tell you that without him, we could never have achieved this success. We owe him a lot.”

As Jack was talking to Ginny, Harry suddenly felt a presence behind his back. He turned around and found himself face to face with Luna. She stared at him in surprise, then let out a little “ _ oh _ ”, and without warning, took him in her arms. Before he knew what to do, she had released him and waved to Ginny.

“You should embrace him, too,” she said in her airy voice, enigmatically.

She pushed the young Auror towards his former spouse. Hesitantly, and after one last confused glance at Luna, Ginny embraced him. Harry imitated her gestures and his hands closed behind her back. Her perfume enveloped him. He closed his eyes and relaxed. Against him, he felt her do the same.

For a moment it was just them. The young man's fingers wrapped themselves in a lock of auburn hair, as he used to do every time he held her in his arms, so long ago. After an eternity, or a few seconds, Ginny stepped aside and looked at him uncertainly.

“Harry?” she whispered almost inaudibly, her brown eyes staring at him in stupor.

The moment was shattered when Ron called out to his sister and she walked away, but not without taking one last look at the young man.

  
  


The Aurors had just passed the door of the Department when the Supervisor came to them.

“Violent Crimes Section!” he exclaimed in a thunderous voice.

Jack rushed over to him, ready to defend his subordinates in case he thought he had to reprimand them for some reason.

“I hear you're having a team dinner tonight,” the man said, looking at them attentively.

“That's right...,” the old Auror answered carefully.

“Here,” the Supervisor said, handing him a thick envelope. “It's from the Director. You are also rewarded for your success with three days of well-deserved paid rest! Good work.”

“Three days? You could have given us at least a week,” Jack mumbled. “My team wore itself out during this case.”

“Next time! I'll support your request personally! So, where are you going to eat tonight? Should I come?”

The members of the small team all looked at each other with embarrassment. Rose stepped aside slightly and reached out her arm to show her the way out.

“Good day, Boss,” she said politely. “And thanks again.”

“I'm off, then,” he replied, visibly disappointed. “Enjoy your meal.”

Once he was gone, they all gathered around Jack.

“How much did they give you?” the young woman asked, watching him open the envelope. “Wow! So much! Liam! Make the reservation! We're going to eat like kings!”

“I already have! Rookie, don’t drink too much tonight, alright?”

“I already told you not to call me Rookie!” Harry replied, sitting at his desk. “I'm older than you!”

“Rookie! Rookie! Rookie!”

“Come on, that's enough!” Jack said with a smile.

Rose leaned over her desk and looked the young Auror straight in the eye.

“Uncle,” she whispered.

“Do you want to get punched?" he retorted with an arm raised, although a smile appeared on his lips.

His superior observed him for a few moments in silence, suddenly serious. “I suppose this will be our last team meal,” he said finally, in a low voice.

His colleagues heard him in spite of everything, and the joyful atmosphere faded away.

This heavy mood lasted even once in the restaurant. Harry swallowed the last sip of his pint under Rose's watchful eye.

“So… You've decided to leave?” she finally said with a hint of bitterness in her voice. “Is that even possible?”

“I have to let Henry get on with his life, now that the killer has been caught,” Harry explained without looking up from the bottom of his glass.

Next to him, Jack sighed at length. 

“Did you know that Hen... Harry was leaving?” Liam asked Gabriel.

“Yes,” he answered softly, nodding his head.

“I saw it coming,” the old Auror intervened, putting his glass down noisily. “I knew you'd leave like that again, Harry. You can't do this to us.”

His speech was beginning to become dangerously slurred.

“Kiddo, I think you've had a bit too much to drink.”

“So what? Can't I get drunk? You know what? I'm finally going to have some peace. I feel sorry for all those who must have had you as a subordinate before me. It was exhausting! You're leaving! That's good news!”

“Thank you for everything, Jack,” Harry said, putting his hand on the shoulder of his superior who was fidgeting while shouting.

“You’re thanking me?” the latter asked in a laugh mixed with a sob.

“Idiot,” the young man muttered. “Are you crying?”

“Who's crying?” Jack sobbed. “Why would I cry?”

“That's the way it should be,” Harry said, looking at his colleagues. “I can't stay. I've already had more time than I should have.”

“But if you go, who's going to look after Kevin?” Rose asked, also crying.

“If you leave, does it mean that Henry Cooper will come back?” Liam added, wiping his eyes with his little pink handkerchief.

“If everything goes as planned, yes.”

His answer was followed by a sad silence.

“Come on!” the young Auror suddenly exclaimed. “Stop with the long faces already! It’ll be as if I'm going home! Just imagine that I'm going back to 1986! It wouldn't make any difference to you! I'm not sad. Liam, pour us some Firewhisky!

“It's true that I'm the best at serving glasses,” he conceded as he grabbed the bottle. “Rose always puts some on the side.”

“That's not even true!” the young woman replied, sniffing.

They all toasted and, little by little, the atmosphere became lighter. Several hours and many glasses later, the Aurors were all in various states of drunkenness, except Harry and Gabriel. The first, because he had anticipated and swallowed a vial of anti-hungover potion before coming, the second, because he emptied all his glasses into the green plant behind him.

“I would really like to say thank you again for everything,” Harry told his team-mates, although they were more or less drowsy. “Thanks to you, we were able to stop the murderer. I don't know if we’ll ever meet again, but I’ll never forget you.”

“Harry...,” Jack mumbled next to him. “Please don't leave.”

“Jack. Kiddo. Thank you,” the young Auror whispered, his voice strained.

“If you leave like that, they'll all be very sad,” intervened Gabriel, looking at them.

“If I stay any longer, it will be even harder for me to leave.”

“Alright. Let's go then,” his partner answered, standing up.

Then he walked towards the exit. Harry followed his example, but stopped in front of the table and looked at them affectionately a little longer. He was going to miss them.

  
  


The night was already well advanced, closer to early morning now than late evening. The two Aurors walked side by side in silence in the deserted streets of Diagon Alley, their footsteps resonating in the darkness lit by their wands.

“You’re not saying anything,” Harry commented, turning to Gabriel. “Don't you have anything to say?”

“No,” the latter replied. “Goodbyes should always be short.”

Harry continued looking at him. He thought back to their first meeting. Their first investigation. That time they had fought. The relationship that had evolved so much over the months they'd spent together.

“What?” the Lieutenant asked, taking a look at him.

The young Auror smiled at him. “Nothing,” he said softly. “I just want to remember.”

“Remember what?”

“This. All of it. You.”

He grabbed his partner's hand and apparated them in front of the tunnel. When he looked around, he saw that James was there, sitting against a motorbike. His motorbike. Sirius' motorbike.

“Did you call him?” Harry whispered, suddenly feeling ashamed that he wanted to leave without a word.

“Yes, I did.”

The two Aurors approached silently.

“What now?” Gabriel asked hesitantly.

“I'm going to apparate on the other side of the tunnel and cross it. Henry should come out in front of you. Are you going to stay to welcome him?”

His two companions nodded their heads.

“Are you sure it's going to work?”

“I've done what I had to do,” he said in a trembling voice. “I know it's time to go.”

The young man looked at them. The glow of the lamppost made the tears shine down their cheeks. James smiled and nodded at him. Everything would be all right. He could go. Harry turned to the tunnel and stood still. No. He couldn't leave like that. He turned back to James again and hugged him.

The professor returned the gesture, running his hand through his hair and trying to reassure him.

“I'm sorry, James. I'm so sorry.”

“Everything will be alright,” his son whispered. “I'm alright. I'm really glad I met you. I know you’ll always be close to me.”

After long minutes, the young Auror slowly released him. Then he turned his gaze towards Gabriel. The latter looked up, as if trying to hold back another flood of tears, in vain. Harry approached him and held him close to him. He could feel his partner's hands grasping his jacket on his back and his body trembling with silent sobs.

He stepped back, freeing himself from the officer's embrace.

“Take care of Henry, all right?” he said, running a hand over his cheeks. “I'm counting on you. And Kevin, too. I entrust him to you, Gabriel.”

He began to move towards the tunnel.

“Dad!”

James' heart-rending cry echoed through the night. Harry froze and turned towards him, his eyes wide open, his heart tightening painfully in his chest. Gabriel put one hand on the professor's shoulder and then nodded his head towards Harry. “ _ It's alright. You can go, _ ” he seemed to say.

“Take care of yourself,” the young Auror said, his voice breaking on his last word.

Then he disapparated.

Harry reappeared on the other side of the tunnel. From this side he could see the Thames in the distance, whose calm surface reflected the lights of the sleeping city. With a hesitant step, he walked towards the dark entrance of the long stone corridor. Then he stopped. New tears streamed down his face, despite his efforts to hold them back, and he wiped them away with a sniff. He could do it. He was ready, just as he had been in the Forbidden Forest that day.

No, he wasn't. He was terrified. This time he wasn't sacrificing himself to save his family and friends. When he passed that ark, he knew he would not come out. He shook his head.

“I promised Henry,” he whispered. “It's not my life, I can't steal his.”

Resolute, he entered the tunnel as a sob escaped from his lips. He continued to move forward in the dark, his wand in front of him to light his way. One step in front of the other, he crossed it slowly. His thoughts turned to Gabriel and James, who were waiting outside. Then the faces of Ron and Hermione followed them. Finally, Ginny, who turned to him with a smile on her face.

Harry saw that his  _ Lumos _ had died out. He continued to walk through the anthracite darkness without seeing his way, with the impression that there was no floor beneath his feet, no walls around him, no ceiling above his head. He realised that his fist was clenched, his nails painfully marking the flesh of his palm. Slowly he loosened it, relaxed his fingers, let go.

His footsteps led him mechanically through the tunnel. He walked in the darkness for a moment. At last the exit appeared to him, bathed in the orange glow of the lamp post in front. His pace quickened, the sound of his shoes slamming on the ground echoed against the stone. Then he emerged into the open air, breathing in a breath of fresh air. Already, the first glimmers of dawn were beginning to appear in the inky sky. As he approached, the two men waiting for him straightened up sharply.

“Henry?”

He wiped his wet cheek with the back of his hand and smiled broadly at them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand that’s it, folks!  
> I really hope you enjoyed this story as much as I loved writing it! I’m so sorry for everyone hoping that he would go back to the past… But it wasn’t time travel, not really… Sorry sorry sorry! (シ_ _)シ  
> It’s an open ending, you can decide which one between Harry or Henry came out of the tunnel! ^^ But I have to confess, after spending so much time with these characters, I had a hard time letting them go… So I wrote some other stories with them that I’ll post separately!  
> So, don’t be afraid to let me know what you thought! I’ll be happy to have some feedback!  
> Thank you again for reading!  
> Take care!


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